So many of you asked me EXACTLY which products I use and recommend so I’ve put these lists together for YOU. Now you can easily buy the wonderful organic and natural products I have used for decades.
I hope you’ll support my new Amazon Favorites by using and sharing the links you find here. When you do you’re helping me out with my ongoing blogging and YouTubing.
Thank you so much.
Best in Health.
Kiki xo
P.S. FInd me on YouTube as Kiki Flynn and on Facebook as Kiki Says.
P.P.S. So glad you’re part of this healthy Kiki community
Great digestion with the best fiber and healthy moods and heart health with Omega 3 EFAs. One tiny super seed does it all – Chia. Kiki hearts chia and you will too. Go organic and you’ll be happy and the planet will be happy too.
Buy this organic chia
Dental health is more that just brushing and flossing. Listen up. Your tongue is filthy. Clean it. Now. Please. Watch and see.
Buy tongue cleaners for the whole family. They are cheap and awesome
My favorite car is yellow.
It has a meter up front next to the driver who fills the tank, changes the oil, and parks it.
All I do is step to the edge of traffic and raise my hand like the pop-quiz whiz-kid who has all the answers.
My favortie car is a taxi.
For car owners, the car is king; it transcends ego. It is the uber-self.
I get it.
I descend from Chevy savvy people.
My first ride ever, home from the hospital, was a finned Impala the color of a shiny new penny. One cherry ride followed the next: a butter yellow Malibu, an emerald green Camaro convertible, a silver Monte Carlo with a royal red pinstripe. The Monte Carlo was a big-ass two-door sedan; each door swung as wide as an aiprlane’s wing and looked to tip the chassis or launch it.
But like the self, a car requires care, fuel, fluids, filters, specialists.
Not so the taxi. If a taxi has a problem, it’s not my problem.
I don’t have to think about a taxi.
Unless I want one and then I simply hail.
And I hail because my heels are high, my parcels prodigious or my watch is slow.
A taxi turns my tapered neon nail into a fairy wand and my word into abracadabra.
A taxi appears like a genie from a bottle.
And a taxi, like the elephant-headed god, removes all obstacles.
Once inside I’m as calm as a yogi in a cave.
Liberated from all suffering.
Transported and free.
All hail the king.
Call me unconventional.
I loved school.
Especially Catholic School.
The More House School for Girls.
Girls only.
Plenty of girls.
Being girls.
Bright, brilliant, clever, ever-so-often naughty girls.
The More House School was uniform-free.
A style forum for 11 year olds just down the road from Beauchamp Place and around the corner from Harrods .
The curriculum included Latin, French, Spanish, history, maths, confession, ballroom dancing, fencing and Shakespeare.
In our Shakespeare theatricals girls played all the roles.
Rosalind, Viola, Julia and Portia were juiciest.
Roles that only boys had played we now played; women disguised as men to teach justice, illuminate, and set the world right.
Disguise, doubled-up identities, corsets and capes.
We were intellectual superheroes.
Wondergirls.
In Girls School, we painted on swirly moustaches, swaggered with sabres and dropped our capes over puddles.
We waltzed in petticoats, held séances in cloakrooms and cribbed cheat sheets in several languages.
We donned pirate gear and orchestrated elaborate treasure hunts up then down back and front staircases.
We wore our costume-shop dresses home with Biba platform shoes, hand-crocheted cloche hats and Gary Glitter nail lacquer.
Winter week-ends we hung out at Conran's or the Tate and summers we swam in the Serpentine.
What’s not to like?
At Moore House, our curriculum did not include petty, catty infighting over boys and popularity.
We were born-free.
Lived free.
A recent treasure hunt lead me to modern pirate's booty.
I started out reading Frances Cole Jones' The Wow Factor and soon discovered Brain Barter.
Brain Barter is like going back to Girls School.
Girls School with goblets of wine and platters of Brie.
Girls School relocated to fairy-lit Saks Fifth Avenue.
Girls School where we don’t have to draw on a moustache to be the smartest person in the room.
And then rub it off to be the sexiest.
Now aren't we clever girls!