"When Babies Fly," The Chalkboard, 2012

I used to do things like fly to Cleveland for the weekend just because my friend wanted to meet up with some guy she met online and didn’t want to go it alone (she paid, of course). Flights were not only a means to an exciting end, but great opportunities to catch up on my celebrity gossip, take a nap and watch movies like He’s Just Not That Into You. After a five hour flight, I would exit the plane with a slight cramp in my neck and a big smile on my face.

Since having a child, the breezy nature of air travel changed from hours of potential movie watching to hours of inevitable baby shushing and bouncing. For my first flight with Baby Darla (from Los Angeles to Pennsylvania for the holidays), I was incredibly pessimistic, incredibly nervous and incredibly annoyed that I had to do it. By the time we touched down on the East Coast, I was able to breath easier as the ten hour journey was void of the tantrums, long lines and headaches I had anticipated. Baby Darla had slept like a champ and smiled for much of the flight.

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"Come Crush On Cults' Super-Cool Frontwoman," Refinery 29, 2011

If life is an extension of high school, then Madeline Follin, frontwoman for NYC-based band Cults, is the mysterious, pretty girl who smokes behind the bleachers, wears bright-red lipstick, and carries a marble-covered notebook filled with poetry. She’s effortlessly cool and can rock an A-line dress like nobody’s business. We had the opportunity to observe Madeline’s sweet sophistication in Los Angeles during her 10-month world tour (aka, her second home). She stole away from the soundcheck before a gig so we could take a peek into her suitcase and find out how she makes such haunting melodies. This photo set will make you wish this lovely homebody were your best friend!

Photo by David Black

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"Like a Virgin," Bust Magazine, April/May 2010

It’s an anecdote typically riddled with fumbling, blood, and backseats, not to mention a plethora of underwhelming sensations. It’s the “how I lost my virginity” story, and nearly every woman has one. L.A. based writer and editor Abby Kincaid, 35, is calling on those of us who’ve forfeited our v-cards to share our experiences with the world on her website Defloweredmemoirs.com. Through word of mouth and submission calls on Craigslist, Kincaid has rallied a bevy of sharp, brutally honest narratives for a project that she hopes to one-day compile in a printed and bound work. In the meantime, she updates the site weekly with her favorite stories of purity lost.

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"BabyCakes Cookbook," 2009

What started off as my daily wake-up slice of corn bread is now a full-blown obsession that boarders on addiction. Understand, i work in the bakery five days a week, but on those other two days I still manage to slip in, scan the counter, and devour any available samples left out for customers. When I pass the empty plate sheepishly toward the counter person and squish my face as if to say, "I'm sorry," it's all a ruse. What I'm really thinking is "more corn bread pieces, please!" later, when I unwrap a salty-sweet morsel, friends look on with envy and hope. It crosses my mind to offer them some, but I usually don't. After all, it's a very real possibility there won't be any left when I make my final pass by the bakery before bedtime.

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"A Penchant for Cupcakes and Dresses," Sadie Magazine, 2008

I knocked on the door to the Penthouse at Columbus Circle and heard the B-52’s being played on the other side. I imagined that everyone lounged about glamorously in an attempt to feign disinterest as they anxiously awaited the precious cargo I carried in a brown bag casually slung on my arm.

I knocked on the door to the Penthouse at Columbus Circle and heard the B-52’s being played on the other side. I imagined that everyone lounged about glamorously in an attempt to feign disinterest as they anxiously awaited the precious cargo I carried in a brown bag casually slung on my arm.

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