Wardrobe: A Day in the Desert

bag, dress, earrings, ring, shoes

You'll want to keep your look breezy and simple for a day out in Sedona, especially if you go in the middle of the summer like we did. Keep in mind everything you wear will get dusty and sweaty. Closed-toe sneakers are a must for any trail blazing and how cool is that crocheted backpack?

Destination: Sedona, AZ

Alyse and I headed out on our Sedona adventure from Scottsdale on an early, already hot, morning in June. My little brain was full of expectations and anticipation. I’d never been to the American West before like this. Sure, I’ve watched a bunch of Spaghetti Westerns and I’ve seen the Grand Canyon (which was incredible) but I haven’t started driving in a direction and gotten lost in a vast open landscape. I wanted to see what the pioneers saw, how the natives lived, and to taste salty freshness a margarita when my body was sweaty, dusty, and sunburned, while I overlooked Thunder Mountain (it’s a real thing Disney fanatics!) and Chimney Rock. I wanted to experience euphoria. I wanted to experience one of these spiritual vortexes I’d been hearing about.

In addition to a Western fantasy, Sedona is a gallery goer's dream. Don’t expect the Chelsea circuit here. It’s a mix of locally crafted goods, anthropological treasures, tacky crap, and some decent fine art (I didn’t get a chance to check it out but have heard Tlaguepaque Arts & Crafts Village is the place to be/buy). I wanted to see it all, but first a side trip to Chapel of the Holy Cross.

What are the chances that the Chapel of the Holy Cross was built right on top of a vortex! Kill two birds? The concrete chapel darts up above the landscape and is renowned for its daring 1950’s design. We were immediately impressed by the picturesque views, architecture of the chapel, and… the volume of tourists. So many people. Everywhere.

Generally speaking, a spiritual vortex is an experience unique to Sedona. People come to be healed by the swirling energies, which are like dirt devils but with spiritual rather than physical energy. Alyse and I each carried some emotional burdens, so we decided to give it a shot. It was hard to find a quiet spot but the information we read on vortexes said that a) they cover a lot of ground, so you could potentially have a moment sitting in your car in the parking lot b) everyone has a different experience, some stronger than others c) vortexes have different energies like masculine, feminine, stimulating, calming, etc. and d) sometimes using an object, like a crystal, can help channel the energy. We sat down in a pew and tried to pray. I didn’t quite get to the zoned out phase of meditation/prayer, but I did throw in a few good words for my family before deciding that this was a bust. Maybe the vortex moved. Can they do that?

Disappointed, we threw down a post-breakfast meal of nachos and Coronas before going out to conquer the art galleries. Then I forgot the map to the galleries in the car so we decided to wander around and just see what struck our fancy. This is when we joyously discovered The Thirsty Cowboy with whom you are already acquainted.

If you are visiting Sedona, the only touristy thing I recommend you make time for is the Pink Jeep Tours. You will curiously see them everywhere as you drive up HWY 179 and 89A. There are many tours to choose from depending on your adventurous spirit. We went with the educational tour of ancient ruins at the Honanki Heritage Site. Seeing as though this was the least exciting trip for families with children (learning!), we had our guide to ourselves. I enjoyed learning about the Sigaguan and their mysteriously industrious ways out here in this now remote location. The highlight was the graffiti, contemporary with the construction of the ruins until now, on the crumbling walls of the cave dwellings. I had some anxiety over a possible rattlesnake encounter but on the way back to town between the wind in my face and the way the light touched the landscape, I relaxed in a moment of happiness.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. My parents went to Sedona in March of 2011. I’m sure they told me they were going, but I didn’t realize they were there until I received a picture text from my Dad of himself standing proudly on Devil’s Bridge. Looking at it was both thrilling and terrifying. I felt like saying, “Wow! Amazing views! Impressive climb! What a tiny land bridge and a huge drop down!” while at the same time saying, “Get down from there! This isn’t funny.” So ever since I saw that picture, I had to go there. I wanted to take a picture like that and send it to him. Then bond over it.

Alyse reluctantly obliged to indulge my fantasy so we headed out for a quick jaunt in the desert before our Pink Jeep Tour. Unfortunately we misjudged just about, well, everything – how long it took to drive out to the trailhead, the blazing heat, the fact that you needed an off-roading vehicle to drive two miles on gravel and soft dirt to get to the real trailhead, how long it took to hike to Devil’s Bridge, and then to get back. We had a grand total of one hour and by the way the hardcore outdoorsy people with all of their gear stared at us in the parking lot, we decided to try something else.

Once on the substitute trail, we spent a grand total of 20 minutes basically running from photo op to photo op. This was for fear of being alone in nature, dying of thirst, being eaten by something, and to see as much as possible in our tiny time allotment. Also, we had no time to look for vortexes.

By the time we sat down for dinner at the Javelina Cantina restaurant, we accomplished a lot and I couldn’t believe our time was already up. Looking at myself in the bathroom mirror, it appeared that I took one too many trips to the tanning bed. But I wasn’t sunburnt - caked on layers of red dust camouflaged my white skin. An attempt was made to discretely return to my normal color with a quick wipe down in the sink before returning to my margarita and companion. The margarita tasted rewarding after a day in the hot sun. I felt like I got a glimpse into someone’s past life, even if it was a bit staged.

As we drove off into the sunset the sky darkened to an inky blue and the huge rock formations began to glow soft orange and pink. They stood proudly and alone out in the middle of the vast landscape. We made our way down the winding road in a peaceful silence as we took in their magnificence. For once I was glad that the speed limit was only 25 miles an hour so such a fleeting image could last a little longer. Was this the vortex experience we were searching for? We can’t be certain but if it wasn’t spiritual bliss then I don’t know what is.

Tips to Travel By: Adventures of The Thirsty Cowboy

While I was in Sedona (story coming next week!) I was in a funny mood. I made the mistake of connecting to the outside world during my vacation (damn you iphone!). And then I decided the best way of handling my frustration was to have nachos and beers at 11am. Why not?

Then I was just plain silly walking around all the touristy shops simultaneous making fun of everything they stood for and making purchases. Gman was in need of a souvenir and I found the perfect thing: The Thirsty Cowboy. This holster set was in the 9 years old and younger section of a Western costume store. Wrapped in an orange box with brown faux wood graining and inside, a tiny toy pistol and flask with "Arizona" written on the fancy leather pouch. These goodies were strapped to a belt for your little tyke to use while pretending he was a belligerent drunk with a gun, I mean a cowboy. To top it off, the box doubles as a framed piece of art! Huge bonus! "Two in one box!" Advertised the back of the frame. What is the art you might ask? A stereotypical 3/4 view portrait of an Indian chief which you could hang on the wall. I had to buy it immediately. Present shopping complete!

After that I threw it in my suitcase. I completely forgot about it, even while packing, as it was in the outside pocket of my rolly bag. So you can imagine my surprise when I'm delayed in the airport security line on my way back home. I went through the scanner and seemed to be waiting for an unusual amount of time for my bag to go through the X-ray belt. Then I noticed that other passengers were being redirected to other security lines. What's the deal? They were inspecting my bag on the monitor. I saw supervisors rushing over. About six TSA agents crowded the monitor, pointing, talking, looking concerned. I still had no idea what the hold up was. The supervisor finally comes over to me and says, "M'am, is there any reason you would have a gun in your bag?" What? I racked my brain. Crap. The Thirsty Cowboy! I told him it was a gift for my, uh, nephew and he told me he had to call the police.

What seemed like an eternity (not even 10 minutes), the police came and finally got a look at the problem. They were very respectful of me and my bag (unusual) and I'm pretty sure I saw someone crack a smile when they took the little treasure out of my suitcase. They re-ran it through the X-ray machine and when it was confirmed that it nor I was a threat, they let me go on my way (and even keep it!).

I was surprised that a) the agents were actually doing a good job and b) that the whole situation was handled so discretely and respectfully. As embarrassed as I was that I, such a seasoned traveler, made such a stupid mistake, I'm glad to know that TSA really is useful and some people take their jobs seriously.

So what's the tip? If you travel with toy guns, check your bags.

Shoe Love: Cowboy Boots

The only shoe love that would be appropriate after a week of talking about the wild west, is my affection for my cowboy boots. I bought these about eight years ago, back in college. I had this childhood memory of cowboy boots. My mom had this creamy colored pair in the back of her closet. I loved to sneak in there as a little girl and try them on. I memorized every detail, like the little metal heart that protected the tip of the toes. Then as I grew up, my feet grew many times her size so I needed a pair of my own. 

At the time of my purchase many women's boots were colorful, trendy, and some outright obnoxious. But I wanted a pair that I could wear the rest of my life. Brands like Tony Lama are carefully hand-crafted with the finest leather which is an investment, some costing around $400 a pop. After no luck in the women's area, I headed to the men's section and saw this pair of classic congac colored beauties. It was love at first sight and I've been wearing them ever since.

Wardrobe: The Cowgirl Staple

From my observations typical Scottsdale fashion is to wear whatever you feel comfortable sweating through as temperatures are steadily in the 90s for several months at a time. Many people choose athletic ensembles of loose yoga pants/shorts, tank tops, and some sort of hiking sandal (this exists). Some ladies try to go fancy with a sundress and I saw a few people try to wear long hair down – this is like wearing a fur coat on your back, by the way, not recommended.


That being said, I also noticed a wide array of cowboy type western wear. I saw a lot of cowboy boots and snappy button-ups with denim skirts and even full length jeans – in temperatures reaching 110 degrees, talk about dedication! So I decided it was time to investigate this cowboy fashion, especially the denim. With Alyse in tow, we set out to discover the fashion world of the Wild West.


Our research lead us to Saba’s Western Store, the preeminent western wear outfitter of Phoenix. We were greeted by JJ Stark and Marsi Beltran at the Shea Blvd location, who agreed to educate us on how a proper cowgirl jean should fit and what the latest trends are. In my mind I was expecting a high-waisted Levis with a huge belt buckle, but this is not what modern day cowgirls find stylish. There are three important aspects to the right pair of jeans: boot-cut, great fit on the ass, and as much bling as possible.


In my normal life I do not like anything that looks like it might have been bedazzled. I have one pair of shoes with glitter on them and often have to remind myself to add jewelry before leaving the house. I wear simple things, usually in black, grey, or tan. So in the fitting room, surrounded by very low-waisted, blingy denim I started thinking this must be a joke. I tried on the first pair, JJ was sure these would be perfect for me. They seemed too long and too shiny. But then I turned around. My ass looked fantastic. I’ve never seen it look that good in jeans before. I kept looking back in the mirror smiling. After trying on at least ten more pairs, I kept coming back to this one, Rock & Roll Cowgirl by Wrangler. It was like trying on multiple wedding dresses when you knew it was the first one all along. The same thing happened for Alyse in a pair of Miss Me. We had no choice but to leave with them, bedazzled ass and all.



Special thanks again to JJ and Marsi for making our shopping trip so fun!

This is how I styled them back in DC...

Destination: Scottsdale, AZ

I didn’t go to Scottsdale, Arizona as a tourist. It wasn’t on my list of fantasy destinations for the year. I didn’t even know I was going until the week before. After receiving a distressed phone call from my very close friends (Evan and Alyse) in need, I agreed to leave the next week and help them move to Scottsdale from New York City.


Usually when a friend needs help moving, they ask you to come over, load a few boxes and an awkward couch into a truck and they give you pizza and beer as a thank you. In my case, I was asked to move a kitty cat cross country then to stick around to help with life adjustment for New Yorkers in the American Southwest. My thank you? An all-expense paid week long vacation. How could I say no?


We arrived at night so my impression of my first time to the desert and a “western” town was suspended until morning. Evan had this favorite breakfast place he wanted to take us to and that would be our first order of business. It was 100 degrees out and only 10:00am. I didn’t know what I was in for. Packing wise, I threw some jorts, swimsuits, and t-shirts in a duffle bag with some sandals and sneakers. I wasn’t sure what would be fashionable and for a change I was too concerned about overheating to care.

The breakfast place was situated in a typical strip shopping center in the Old Town part of Scottsdale. People of various ages and sizes patiently waited for their tables. We sat outside, which wasn’t too bad in the shade. The menu consisted of typical American breakfast foods, sausage and omelets, pancakes, eggs benedict. Nothing seemed spectacularly interesting, until the waitress asked which type of hot sauce we would prefer. My heart leapt in my chest as she spoke. I love hot sauce. This place knew how to serve a meal. She ended up bringing all of them (a caddy of six) so we could sample each. I settled on what I always use on eggs and potatoes, plain-old Tabasco.


After lunch my friends attempted to show me around a bit but at 2pm the heat beat us and we moved on to run errands. Like I said, I didn’t come to Scottsdale as a tourist. I came to help my friends get settled into their new life. It was exciting to be a part of their move. It was more than just cooking, tidying up, helping arrange shelves. I was part of their family for a week and it felt nice to be home with them. We spent a significant amount of time driving around from Home Depot, Trader Joe’s, Target, and other shopping with little Cold Stone ice cream breaks between each stop.


We started the week by creating an itinerary, including a side trip to Sedona (I’ll tell you about that another time). Then layed by the pool for most of the day drinking individually boxed sauvignon blanc from Target.

I did little research on the greater Phoenix area before heading there. I was in Denver, Colorado when I received the call and only had three days at home to repack and get back on the road. While there I learned that nobody goes to Phoenix. Whenever I mentioned any interest in checking out an art museum or shopping or anything, every single person said, “but why?” One friend said, “Why are you in Phoenix in June? Did you lose a bet?” (referring to the heat). I ended up skipping a trip to Phoenix after so much discouragement.


What I discovered about Scottsdale is that it, like many other Phoenix suburbs (Glendale, Chandler), was that it is 90% white, affluent, fashionable, and nostalgic for a Wild West past. There are three groups of people who live in the area: those that are “from here” meaning their great-grandparents settled there, people who recently moved there, perhaps snowbirds or wealthy athletes or people in the medical business, and the Native American tribes. The most well-known being the Salt River Pima-Maricopa Indian Community, Tohono O'odham Nation, and Gila River Indian Community. Although different and not likely to mingle too much, all of the locals had one thing in common: Rawhide.

Rawhide is a regionally famous destination and described as an authentic Wild West experience. It’s not only a hokey little western town themed park. The stories, characters, and some of the people working there are descendants from the Americans who first headed out West back in the 19th century, like the blacksmith Devin Mace, who we had the pleasure of meeting.


Alyse and I stumbled across Rawhide while fine tuning our itinerary. We wanted to have at least one touristy experience while I was in town. A package deal offered horseback riding and a steak dinner. Sold.


When we arrived Rawhide looked more like a ghost town then a bustling tourist trap. We were the only idiots who thought a horseback ride through the desert was a good idea when temperatures were hitting 110 degrees. However, being on the back of a horse made me nostalgic for my childhood when I rode dressage. I was a good rider and suddenly felt like all my life decisions were wrong and I needed a horse again ASAP.

I don't know why dinner is in quotes.

But the trail was strange and quickly snapped me out of it. We started off backtracking through the parking lot, wound around some construction sites to finally arriving out in the open desert. We then weaved in and out of a golf course and resort with a slide in the pool. In the open desert, close to the golf course, we spotted lots of animals I’ve never seen in person before. I got excited everything we saw a jack rabbit, prairie dog, or coyote. Apparently everyone else saw a road runner too. I was bummed I missed it! My western experience would have been complete via Looney Tunes.


Back at the ranch… just kidding it was a fake town, remember? We had dinner in the dining hall. Unfortunately I can be pretty cynical about hokey dining situations, which makes them difficult to enjoy. I didn’t appreciate the country singer on stage, the red checkered table clothes, or the “howdy” from our server. I didn’t appreciate the overcooked chicken and hard to cut steaks. I did like the cold draft beer and s’mores for dessert. I also appreciated the hardworking people that put their heart and time into making this place a destination. I got a kick out of the gun slingers, ice cream shops, and toy stores in the little town. I can see it as a place you would want to bring your young children. In fact, I have a faint childhood memory of going to a similar place somewhere.

Do you see the coyote?

It turns out Scottsdale is my kind of city. There are a ton of art galleries, museums, and some of my favorite places to shop like Nordstrom, JCrew, and Anthroplogie. There are a lot of great places to eat, explore, and relax. But what was my favorite part about Scottsdale? Besides acting like I lived there and spending oodles of time with my friends, I had damn good chips, salsa and margaritas at almost every meal.

PS - I found the Scottsdale city website to be very helpful in our activities planning. Check it out here.