A few weeks ago, I received an invitation to visit the Spa at Trump Tower for a complimentary service. I am, never, ever one to turn down spa visits. Ever.
My family has taken annual week-long skiing trips my whole life. Both of my parents are huge ski bunnys and grew up frequenting the Poconos, which is like the East Coast equivalent of the ski hills in Wisconsin. When we lived in New York, that’s where we went skiing. One of the reasons my parents were super stoked to move to Arkansas was that it put us much closer to Colorado, the holy grail of American skiing. After we moved there every year we’d pick a different ski town; one year it was Beaver Creek, the next it was Steamboat. My parents were like kids in a candy store. Now we’ve settled upon Copper Mountain; let me rephrase that, my two brothers have settled upon Copper Mountain as their favorite, so we go there every year now. Each Disney-like ski town has their own unique spa operated by the resort company that owns the slopes. I was very privileged to have the opportunity to become well-acquainted with the varieties of luxury day spas at a young age. I know how lucky I am, and am infinitely grateful to have grown up with parents who worked hard to give my brothers and I amazing experiences. I was 10 or 11 when I had my first Swedish massage, and that was it. Eternal love was sparked. As the years went on I would beg my mom to buy me expensive spa treatments in place of equally-pricey lift tickets, something her athletic personality just couldn’t understand. She was happy to indulge me, and soon I was only skiing 3 of the 6 days. I love skiing, don’t get me wrong, but if given only one option I will usually choose the spa treatment.
Flash forward to last week, when I visited the Trump Spa for the first time. I was blown away by everything. The employees were knowledgeable and courteous, the environment was tranquility at its finest, and the views spectacular. I was there to receive a mani-pedi, the perfect spa treatment for fashionable women. Not everyone likes massages (crazy people) so mani-pedis are great middle-of-the-road experiences that everyone can generally enjoy. After filling out the spa intake forms I was offered the chance to change into a spa robe to receive my treatment, which I promptly accepted. Is there anything more ridiculously glamorous than changing into a spa robe to get a manicure in the middle of the day? The answer is no. The front desk manager gave me a tour of the entire spa, including a visit to the incredible 75-foot pool with soaring views of the city skyline.
The experience kicked off with a pedicure in their luxurious nail salon. My esthetician, Sylvana, was gentle and just perfectly talkative; like all good service providers, she knew the line between being friendly and being overly chatty. As would be expected, the entire experience was a giant step up from the nail salon on the corner I usually go to. The normal nail cleaning and maintenance was included of course, but as a bonus I received a SpaRitual sugar scrub and a premium body butter rub on my feet and lower legs.

ew gross, my feet!
For more information, please visit the Spa at Trump website or call 312-588-8020.
When I photographed Morgan a while back (ignore the terrible watermarks) I wasn’t yet comfortable wearing red lipstick, and I have to admit that she was a big influence on pushing me out of my comfort zone and into the tribe of red lipstick wearers. People often ask me who my primary style inspiration is, expecting me to say Kate Lanphear or another stylish magazine editor whose outfits are chronicled by us bloggers. But honestly, and I truly mean this, my primary source of outfit inspiration is from the everyday people I photograph for my blog. I’m not a magazine editor with free access to a closet full of advertisers’ latest “it” bags/shoes/dresses, I’m a grad student at DePaul. I connect with the people in my photos, and I hope you do too.
















