So, here I am – 38, mother of two, wife of one, only I’m pretty sure that I’m actually a 10 year old – whether I’m a boy or a girl – that depends on the day, or maybe the hour.  Why am I doing this, why are you, “doing it with Cassendre”? Well here’s the basic idea – I have devoted most of my adolescent, teen, and “adult” life to taking it upon myself to make sure that there was always something cool to do, a veritable Julie McCoy (Love Boat reference, for those of you who didn’t immediately pick that up) for my group of friends.  While I was able to please the grown-ups, and always do well in school - graduate, blah, blah, blah – what I was really thinking about was, what was going on this weekend, and more importantly what was I going to wear? That being said, it’s not hard to figure out how after years of theater, and an MFA in film direction, I wound up being an over-educated wardrobe stylist.

 Now don’t get me wrong, I love my job. I was practically born in clothes, they’re in my genes, or should I say jeans (that’s right, in my world, there is always time for a “clever” pun) Anyway, back to my story, my mother was the one who showed up in her full-length mink coat, and matching hat, for my high school plays. Did I mention that she always sat front center? Of course she did. She’s French. My dad, on the other hand, wears nothing but Hawaiian shirts and comfortable (pronounced com-FOR-table – also French) pants and footwear - the fashion I didn’t get from my father, but he has always appreciated a pretty girl – did I mention that he’s French?? I’ve got two gorgeous sisters, older than I, making them, of course, my childhood heroes. The eldest, the disco queen, used to glue gold stars on her cheeks before she paraded out of the house in her skin tight white spandex, and coordinating red sequins tube top. The younger, black hair down to her butt wore solid black and tried sneaking me into many a punk rock venue in the early days of the LA scene – I was 6 :). Oh, I’ve got a brother, too – his usual attire was angel flights and a baseball shirt with terrifying Molly Hatchet album art. I did reap some positives out of having a brother, though. He was a total gearhead, and we had great muscle cars coming and going throughout my whole childhood. Was he dealing in cars, you might ask? No, just constantly wrecking them, and moving onto the next. Fine by me, I just got to be exposed to awesome, fast cars, and develop a total appreciation for them.

That’s the basic gist of the childhood; then there were misspent teen years, followed by some residual misspending in my early twenties. By my late twenties, I was done with school, had a flourishing career, and met Dennis. He’s adorable. I know, gag. I hate when other people effuse about how much they love their spouse in public media arenas, too. Oh, well. Long story short, we got married, made two rad kids, I’ve kept working – here we are.
What? What’s that? You want to know more about my rad kids - don’t worry, you will…

But back to, why DoItWithCassendre? Because it’s a place to find out what’s happening, who’s happening, how to do it yourself – with style, how to live greener, you name it. If I think it’s cool, you’ll find it here.

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