Winona Dimeo-Ediger

I regularly call upon personal saints for help. Really specific ones whose sainthood only exists in my own mind, but they’re very effective. Today I’d like to introduce you to a few of them; feel free to call on them as often as needed.

Dear Winona,

fashion entrepreneur. advocate for human trafficking victims.

How does that old cliché go? “Love is not a noun, it’s a verb”? Loving your body is a verb. It’s an action — and in many ways it’s a sacred and defiant one.

If you don’t have a pair of pixie pants, girl, you need to get a pair of pixie pants.

This woman has serious swagger. It’s a slightly more subtle swagger than, say, Snoop Lion, but it’s there: in the nonchalant flick of her wrist while tossing garlic cloves into a food processor; in her decision to throw a spontaneous formal garden party just because she made a frittata, and in her firm pronouncements to use only “good” ingredients — without ever defining what that means.

Toss back half a bottle of merlot while watching “Daredevil.” Pause it for a pee break. Glance in bathroom mirror, notice bangs are getting slightly unruly.

You, dear senators, have been busy trying to bring about the apocalypse, which doesn’t leave a lot of time for self-care.

The Real Househusbands of Beverly Hills: See how the stay-at-home husbands of the most powerful women in Beverly Hills truly live! Watch these “men of leisure” shop, do brunch, plan opulent parties, and get in fistfights over insinuations that their lush heads of hair aren’t exactly all-natural. Scandalous!

One woman’s frumpy maxi is another woman’s new favorite dress. Gather a group of friends together for a clothing swap.