Sharon Tate.

For the past few years, I cannot live through the month of August without completely immersing myself in Sharon Tate. The timing may be morbid, but I just let it wash over me. I try to think about what she was going through at the time with a child on the way and a philanderous husband filming a movie overseas. I read Joan Didion's "The White Album" once more and imagine what the air felt like in Los Angeles in the summer of 1969 before it all went down. I ask my parents about it, and I usually don't get a direct answer. All I know is that I was raised to lock every door behind me and still do religiously. Some say she couldn't act her way out of a paper sack, but I think she had potential. Her suicide scene in Valley of the Dolls always makes me profoundly sad. I don't know exactly how much of my feelings are derived from knowing her fate in real life, but I still think the performance itself is heartbreaking. Everything I read about her says she was a benevolent and kind soul to all she met. Not to mention her beauty. No wonder she could pull off Jennifer North. She captivates me. Some would argue that had she lived into the 1970s and beyond that she would be "just another aging, bitter, Botoxed actress," but I don't believe it for a second. She seemed like a class act. That said, I love her outfits in The Wrecking Crew...So I bought a cap like hers, albeit in a brown house check from Burberry:It already means a little something special to me, and that's all I need to rock it out of the park. That and a black turtleneck.I can't wait for fall.