Winona Dimeo-Ediger

There’s something that happens on social media every time a celebrity dies. After the initial shock and questions of “is it a hoax?” have abated, people start telling stories.

...canning stuff is the best. It makes you feel like a badass pioneer woman preparing for the Oregon Trail except in this scenario you’re making orange basil marmalade for brunches rather than sustenance and you have unlimited access to a shower.

Make a u-turn into the darkest recesses of your psyche. Wonder about your life purpose: Were you put on earth to stare at computer screens and pay bills and die? Cringe while imagining what your idealistic college self would think of you now. Conclude that your life lacks creativity and meaning and simple joys.

Two years ago today, the Rana Plaza building in Dhaka, Bangladesh, collapsed

There’s that moment when you’re waiting in line for a buffet when you get a whiff of something funky, and one of your friends is like, “Is that vomit?” and another one is like, “Is it coming from that plant?” and you all shudder, plug your noses, and forget about it 20 minutes later because dude, all you can eat crab!

While flipping through a fashion magazine the other day, I was shocked at the revelation that “beachy hair at the beach” is now co

In 1897, a little girl named Virginia O’Hanlon wrote a letter to the editor of the Sun, asking if there was a Santa Claus.

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.

fashion entrepreneur. advocate for human trafficking victims.

I'm all about body positivity practices that require self reflection a