To Crop Top Or Not?

March 5th, 2015


{Piamita top and pants, Manolo Blahnik heels, Edie Parker clutch, Céline sunnies}



The fact that crops tops are dying a slooooooow death (I believe I spearheaded the movement) and the notion I’m just now somewhat fit enough to wear one is ironic. And tragic. And basically the story of my life. But I love the flowy nature of this silky Piamita blouse because it’s a classy take on the omnipresent trend if you know what I mean.

And I happen to intimately know the designer behind the brand, Cecilia de Sola. Here’s the scoop: Once I moved to Miami from N.J., my parents placed me into Saint Stephens Episcopal Day School in groovy Coconut Grove. There, the first gal to take the dorky newbie with bad bangs (me) under their wing was Ceci. She made me feel right at home, which is a huge feat — those of you who were once “new girls” know exactly what I mean.

Since then, Ceci went to college up North, moved to NYC and now lives in Chile. She launched her loungewear line, Piamita, with her fellow friend Karla Martinez. My fave touches? The elastic waistband in each pair of pants and the quirky, silky prints. So thank you, Ceci, once again — for friending me in the fifth grade and making lovely loungewear. Gals like you make the world a prettier place. 

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Shopbop’s Big Sale Begins Today… Hooray!

March 3rd, 2015

Shopbop Sale

{Score this Clover Canyon dress for less}

Confession: I have a “problem.” I can spend hours  aimlessly clicking through their lookbooks, new arrivals and sales items like it’s my job. It’s so not normal but we all know I’m borderline insane so that’s that.

So when I caught wind their BIG SPRING SALE begins Tuesday March 3, 2015 @ 6:30 a.m. (Eastern time) to Sunday March 8, 2015 @ 4:00 a.m. — well, I’m all about spreading the news because sharing is caring, right?

Yep, save up to 25% by scoring your coupon code right here.

Happy Shopbopping, kids!


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Beachwear Game on Fleek

February 25th, 2015

maria tettamanti miami fashion blogger

{Tabula Rasa caftan, Lanvin sandals, J. Crew Panama hat, Fendi cuff}

maria tettamanti miami fashion blogger

maria tettamanti

miami fashion blogger maria tettamanti

miami fashion blogger maria tettamanti

soho beach house miami

If there ever were a daytime outfit which summarized my beach-y sartorial sensibilities it would definitely be this exact look: A blue-and-white crochet tunic, Panama hat and studded sandals. It decidedly says MIAMI without shouting CHEESEBALL or I’M EASY or LOOK AT MY ASS! or BOOBS R US…if you catch my drift. You all know exactly what I’m talking about, right? 

Right-o, kids.

This past week has been a blur of birthday-centric events (Hooray! I’m 38! The big 4-0 is just a stone’s throw away!). Said celebrations took place at my favorite haunts in Miami — Jugo Fresh (for a fresh-pressed  Flaca Manzana juice with a bestie), Maktoto for lunch (die for their crunchy rice tuna), The Palm for dinner (would cut a betch for their hash browns and filet minion smothered in béarnaise sauce), and another dinner the next day at my parent’s house (mama made me my fave — roasted leg of lamb with potatoes). Um, FOOD COMA. Like, bring on the jeans with 98% elasticity, por favor.

In a concerted effort to forgo gaining 6 pounds during said birthday shenanigans, I took up several Barry’s Bootcamp classes this week like a psychotic psycho because that’s what freshly minted 38-year-old psychotic psychos do with their lives.

So helloooooo, 38! Please be good to me.


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Ski… or Die Trying

February 21st, 2015

Vail, Colorado

{The family and I on our annual trip to Vail, Colorado. Me in a Pucci ski jacket and North Face pants}

Pucci ski boota

{Me in a Prada coat, Lululemon leggings and Pucci àpres ski boots}


{My little brother, Yioryos, comes along every year}

vail, colorado

{And away we goooooooo}

Vail, Colorado

{My father in law, Sebastian, Yioryos and I (wearing a Ralph Lauren ski jacket)}

chinchilla fur

{Shortly after this exact photo was tweeted, PETA tweeted my ass — um, embarrassing}

Sorry for slacking on the blog, kids, but this chick was busy learning how to ski the blue runs of Vail, Colorado. And eating goulash. And drinking copious amounts of Cakebread wine. And fitting in some solid hot tub time.

I’m pleased to say — drumroll, please — I’m now skiing like a boss (okay, not really — I tend to exaggerate like Brian Williams) and — man! — it feels good to accomplish this cylcopean feat.

You see, for the past four years, my family takes a week-long trip to heavenly Vail. I really look forward to this particular vacation because it’s my husband’s most treasured one. Same goes for the kids. So when they’re happy, I’m happy, you know? It’s infectious. They just love to zip around the mountain like little Lindsey Vonns as I spend hours — hours! — in private ski lessons because I was born with two left feet. And the attention span of a flea. And an affinity for hourly Baileys-spiked hot cocoa breaks. These misfortunes/habits equate to my being a “slow learner.” Or at least that’s what my seventh grade math teacher told me when I couldn’t quite grasp the ridiculous concept of equivalent ratios. WHO CARES ABOUT RATIOS? Exactly my point.

Anyhoo, this past trip was HUGE  because I’m finally skiing on my own. As in — no more instructors! As in — bring on the fancy ski gear! As in — meet moi on the mountaintop for an après ski white Russian. Or three.

Truth be told, the sensation of skiing is absolutely thrilling for me. Momentum, speed and adrenaline aside — it’s the notion I have to remain 100 percent in the present which makes it such an exhilarating experience. All I can hear is the crunching of snow as my skis sift through the pillows of powder. All I can physically feel is the burn in quads. Mentally — I’m so in the now — it’s as though my mind is quiet. It’s total freedom. At times, I’ll find myself screaming “Weeeeee!” like a child. Often, I’ll catch myself laughing for no reason whatsoever. Once, I teared up from sheer delight. So emotional. And no, it wasn’t that time of the month if you know what I mean. Self help was there…right on the slopes!

I suppose what I’m trying to say is that when we conquer quests we never deemed possible, well, the results are awe inspiring. And no, it doesn’t take a trip to faraway snow-capped mountains to learn and grow and be present. So take up that hobby you’ve always dreamed about but have pushed to the back of your mind (Paddle boarding? Yoga? Fishing? Cross stitching? Cooking? Painting?). Once you nail it, you’ll connect with yourself in unfathomable ways.

And possibly squeal in sheer delight like I did over this past week.  


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Mellow Yellow

February 10th, 2015

maria tettamanti

{Dress by Zimmermann, Clutch by Proenza Schouler (old), Cuff by Fendi}

zimmermann dress

zimmermann dress

miami fashion blogger maria tettamanti

Current mood: Harmonious.

So seeing as I’ve been feeling particularly unruffled and productive as of late, this mellow yellow Zimmermann frock feels totally on point. Of course, there’s only so long this Pisces can cling on to melodic balance until the next inescapable meltdown (hey, I’m a realist). This being said, I can only surmise my ensuing nervous breakdown (I average one a month at this point — hooray for personal growth!) will be related to one of the following misfortunes:

1) Suffering a full-fledge panic attack while tumbling down the side of one of Vail’s steep mountains while visions of my untimely death prance in my head. Note to self: Dress cute. You want to look adorbs  when the Ski Patrol is all in yo face.

2) Packing for 4 for frigid Antartica-esque temperatures and conditions. Do you realize how many wool socks, jackets, underwear, hats, mittens, medication, boots, furs and Hot Chilis this equates to? Exactly. It takes a MENSA genius to pack accordingly. Trust.

3) Wrapping up all my freelance writing assignments before we dip. Nightmare-ical. 

4) Potty training our new puppy. That little nugget poops more than a breast-fed newborn. The seemingly endless amount of shit that plops out of that two-pound creature blows my mind. In a bad way.

Until then, I’m squeezing tight onto this delicious sense of Zen. 

And praying our puppy quits pissing on my favorite rug. 


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