"We build cities, and then we take them down."

So Armpit #1, Las Vegas, has turned out to be not so very bad after all.

For starters, I'm at the Bellagio, which to me is about a thousand times better than the smelly Venetian. Good beds, good shopping, good room service: that's all a girl needs in this town.

I'm at one of the world's largest trade events--it's for the construction industry--and it's been amazing to see it come together. My partner in crime is the Wolf from Pulp Fiction--he's running a huge part of the event, knows everyone in town from high rollers to teamsters, knows where all the dead bodies are buried and just fixes problems. Cool as hell.

My friend K moved here about 2 years ago, so I've had my very own tour guide. We have one of those totally non-stressful friendships where we may not talk for a year, but we always pick up where we left off and it's perfect. I miss having her in my life more, but it's been fantastic getting to hang out here, on her newish turf. She recently got engaged to a man who reminds me a lot of my own--an all-around good guy, who just loves her. Smart, funny, and together: he's great, and I'm thrilled.

And you know when you go to Paris and you think, "We should totally get an apartment here."? And then you spend the next few weeks plotting it out, thinking through the finances, and then it just kind of fades away? Well, they actually did it: bought a huge plot in Costa Rica, which is where they'll probably tie the knot.

She took me to Summerlin, the town in which she lives, located about ten miles out and about a thousand feet up. Red Rock looms over the city, and the Red Rock Casino now lies in front of that. It's a beautiful place--unlike the rest of Vegas, which all looks so disposable, this place actually doesn't. (Insider's tip: it, like many other places in town, offer 30% off of spa services during the week for locals). It's a pretty town: quiet and dark with the lights of The Strip shimmering in the distance below.

I also got to squeeze in a lap at the Forum: Scoop (favorite store, and yes, while it is a lot like Intermix, I just always find the perfect thing there. Always.), Marc Jacobs, and Pucci all to the left, Harry Winston, Taryn Rose (I just don't get her shoes--anyone?), and Anne Fontaine to the right.

Someday I will own the whitest, crispest, most fabulous Anne Fontaine shirt ever. And it will be an absolutely glorious four seconds before I splatter a sauce across it made entirely of ketchup, red wine, Oxy antidote and the inside of a Sharpie marker.

Anyway, all is good. Dinner at Fix the other night, Tao tonight, Little Buddha at The Palms tomorrow. Remembered to order a humidifier for my room while checking in the first night--which is the absolutely necessary key to Vegas survival, trust me on that. Now if I can somehow finagle a few hours to get a pedi at the Wynn, life will be pretty great.

Five days down, two to go on this one; nineteen days total left...