I use vanilla extract (or bean) excessively and I'm shamelessly snobbish about quality. My most suitable solution to the inverse relationship between my addiction and the sub-standard caliber of the supermarket extracts has been to buy Taylor and Colledge from the mostly British expat shop in town. While the quality is superb, the price includes importing and is blindfold-worthily steep. Especially for someone who goes through a bottle every two weeks. Solution o'clock needed to happen, like, six months ago.
So I had this really terrific, albeit not terribly original, idea to post one outfit per week to document realistic and public-worthy ways to make an existing wardrobe work on the unique physique of a pregnant body.
Instead of cramming giant me into a tiny airplane seat and dealing with eight hours of in-flight toddler tantrums that could get even this guy thinking some angry thoughts, we pointed a rental car towards France. It turned out that a week in the country, baguettes, and a few days in Paris cures all (in our situation, bad cases of bitchy+whiny+pregnant and works-a-lot+stuck-with-a-pregnant-wife).