The Evolution of the TV Anchor

The Evolution of the TV Anchor

The Evolution of the TV Anchor

The Evolution of the TV Anchor

The Evolution of the TV Anchor

My first day on the job as a television reporter was nothing short of terrifying. I was young, insecure and horribly dressed. Of course, I didn’t know it at the time (the horribly dressed part.) Wearing a crisp, bright red blazer, checkered blue and white gauchos and navy high heeled Mary Janes with sweet little bows on top, I was ready to take on the world and my very first television story.

When I showed up to work, my very old, strung-out-on-coffee-and-cigarettes assignment editor barked out my marching orders: “Your story is about the largest private hospital in the area turning indigent.” My response was, not surprisingly, idiotic: “Well, that sounds interesting,” I said enthusiastically. “No shit, Sherlock,” he quipped while handing me a stack of press releases. “You’re the lead at 6pm,” he grunted. “This is my first day. Should I really be the lead?” I sighed insecurely, under my breath. He didn’t even bother looking up from his computer, but…

Just as I turned to walk out the door, he called after me: “Hey, new kid – you’re not going to wear that on television, are you?” Everyone in the newsroom simultaneously burst into laughter. I smirked at him, shook my head and bee-lined it for the hospital. Once I met my videographer, I did, indeed, piecemeal my way through the story and proudly presented it during my very first television live-shot on the 6PM news. After the tally light went off on the camera, I punched the sky and belted out the theme to “Rocky.” It was a defining moment…

Unfortunately, I did it all while wearing that not-so-flattering outfit. If I was being totally honest, though, I didn’t really have a choice in the matter. I was just starting out in the business and was as broke as a spandex maker when grunge hit. So to make due, I would piece together outfits from free clothing I got from my old pageant and modeling days. I learned pretty quickly, though, my sob story didn’t matter because viewers didn’t give a flying flip. The next day, my News Director forwarded me my first official complaint.

The ladies name was Barbara; yes, I still remember her name and in no uncertain terms she wrote the station, cc’ing my General Manager, to inform them that during my (very first) live-shot, I wasn’t wearing enough lipstick, my hair was too flat and my gauchos were hideous. Luckily, she thought I did a good job on the story. Welcome to television!

Read the rest of “The Evolution of the TV Anchor” at www.wsvn.com or to be featured in the blog email me at ShireenSandoval@yahoo.com.

Belkys Nerey wardrobe provided by www.NanetteLepore.com
Lynn Martinez styled by Elyse Held/wardrobe www.JessieBoutique.com
Shireen Sandoval’s suit www.saksfifthavenue.com / shoes www.jimmychoo.com

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photography by tod p/t4twophotography
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Hair & Make-up by Odette Hernandez
Twitter @Odettehernandz
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Editor: Matthew Auerbach
MattAuerbach@yahoo.com

The Bugged & The Beautiful

The Bugged & The Beautiful

The Bugged & The Beautiful

The Bugged & The Beautiful

The Bugged & The Beautiful

The Bugged & The Beautiful

It was a scary and shocking sight: my mother walking around confused, sweaty and mumbling something inaudible. I thought she had been acting funny earlier that morning, but I chalked it up to my vivid imagination. As the afternoon faded into evening, though, my mother’s behavior grew more and more bizarre. It was impossible not to notice it. Even though my father instructed me to go to bed, I couldn’t sleep.

I tossed and turned, thinking about the day in detail; replaying it over and over in my head. The questions mounted: had she hit her head, was she losing her mind or perhaps, even worse, had she been abducted by aliens and now, was some strange creature in her body making her do weird things? I was completely and utterly perplexed. Mind you, I was also young and a little on the dramatic side.

The next morning, as things got worse, my father started to panic (for the record, I’d never seen him that way.) Left with what he explained as “no choice,” he gathered my mother together the best he could and carried her to the car. When he placed her in the front seat she writhed in pain. It was horrible to watch and I cried without letting her see me. Through my tears, though, I noticed something odd about the way she was sitting.

When my dad sprinted to the driver’s side and my mother was left alone in the car for a few brief seconds, she strangely favored her right side. It was if her left hip was injured. Then, as if his wife’s very life depended on it, my dad quickly drove out of sight. Later we would learn, her life did depend on it.

Read the rest of “The Bugged & The Beautiful” at www.wsvn.com or shop the look at www.HaleyHoleman.com & www.trend-rush.com.

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photography by tod p/t4twophotography
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IG @Tod_p
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Hair & Make-up by Odette Hernandez
Twitter @Odetthernandz
IG @Odett_Herndz

Editor: Matthew Auerbach
MattAuerbach@yahoo.com

The Wildly Wonderful Ramona LaRue

The Wildly Wonderful Ramona LaRue

The Wildly Wonderful Ramona LaRue

The Wildly Wonderful Ramona LaRue

The Wildly Wonderful Ramona LaRue

The Wildly Wonderful Ramona LaRue

The Wildly Wonderful Ramona LaRue

I didn’t want to snoop through my college roommate’s personal belongings, but her mother insisted. While I stayed at school to work through the summer, Marni had hightailed it home because of health issues. She didn’t tell me what was wrong, but it seemed serious. As she grew sicker, her mother grew more desperate to help her. Hence, the call that would change my life forever.

She instructed me to go inside Marni’s closet and find a shoebox on the top shelf behind her sweaters, where I would find an old prescription one of the doctors at the school health center had written her. Apparently, whatever it was worked and her mother needed to know the name of the medication. I did what I was asked.

Inside the box, I found Marni’s most treasured keepsakes: pictures, tokens, jewelry and letters. There were a lot of letters. I recognized the handwriting immediately. They were from my boyfriend. The two were close friends, so it didn’t surprise me. I skimmed past them and found the old prescription. I couldn’t pronounce the medication so I spelled it out for Marnie’s mom and we said our goodbyes.

That night, I laid awake in bed thinking about the letters that I had unwittingly discovered. The pull, desire and incessant need to read them was overwhelming. I was one of those people, though, who vehemently believed and respected other people’s privacy, so I held back on the temptation. My boyfriend, “Mark” (I changed his name, but if he reads this, you know who you are,) was home for the summer, too. I called him the next morning.

He seemed normal: loving, attentive, doting even. I adored him so much and knew we would be married someday. I hung up the phone, sighed my troubles away and headed for the student library. The thing is, I couldn’t read, hold a thought or concentrate. My entire focus was on that shoebox in Marni’s closet, behind her sweaters. I packed up my books and headed for my empty apartment.

Read the rest of “The Wildly Wonderful Ramona LaRue” at www.wsvn.com or shop the look at www.ramonalarue.com.

Styling: Arianne Brown LaRue
Website: www.ramonalarue.com
Twitter: @ramonalarue
Instagram: @ramonalarue
Facebook: Ramona LaRue by Arianne

photography by tod p/t4twophotography
Twitter @todp_photo
IG @Tod_p
info@t4twophotography.com

Hair & Make-up by Odette Hernandez
Twitter @Odetthernandz
IG @Odett_Herndz

Editor: Matthew Auerbach
MattAuerbach@yahoo.com

Wednesday, January 21, 2015 , ,

Lovely Lexi

Lovely Lexi

Lovely Lexi

Lovely Lexi

lexi-4

Lovely Lexi

Lovely Lexi

Lovely Lexi

I got divorced by myself on a hot February day in downtown Miami. My attorney was with me, but my husband didn’t show up. I couldn’t really blame him, though; I didn’t want to be there, either. Really, it was a sad state of affairs, as I sat in a bone-chillingly, over-air-conditioned courtroom, where broken promises and unfulfilled dreams permeated the air. It was depressing to say the least.

My soon-to-be ex-husband was in New York City working, while I waited for a judge to dissolve the vows we had both taken so lovingly together. I replayed them in my mind while I was killing time…”to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish; until death do us part.”

My eyes welled with tears at the memory of the exchange. I didn’t want to torture myself, but I couldn’t help but reflect on the love I had felt on that day and the love I still had for my husband. It all seemed crazy, really. I mean, if I still loved the guy, why was I divorcing him? What’s more, why was he letting me? We had an amazing relationship, our love story was the stuff dreams were made of and we were the couple that everyone always said would actually “make it.” We didn’t.

After the judge granted our divorce, I thanked my attorney and hurried to my car, where I locked myself inside and cried…for hours. After pulling myself together, I did something totally out of character; I called American Airlines and booked a ten day trip to Mexico. Alone. I didn’t tell anyone (besides asking my boss for time off.) I didn’t think anyone would notice.

I was always on the road for work anyway; traveling was actually 75 percent of my job. Until that moment, though, I had never really thought about venturing out on my own (for lack of a better description) to go and find myself. Perhaps it was because I didn’t really know I needed to be found. I arrived in the Mayan Riviera in one piece, but a few days later, ensconced in the lush greenery of Tulum by the breathtaking, crystal blue-green sea , I unequivocally fell apart.

Read the rest of my blog featuring Lexi Jewelry at www.wsvn.com or shop the look at www.lexijewelry.com & www.nicdelmar.com.

Twitter: @lexijewelry
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Thursday, January 15, 2015 , ,

The Great Escape … (featuring The Moorings Village)

The Great Escape ... (featuring The Moorings Village)
The Great Escape ... (featuring The Moorings Village)
The Great Escape ... (featuring The Moorings Village)
The Great Escape ... (featuring The Moorings Village)
The Great Escape ... (featuring The Moorings Village)
The Great Escape ... (featuring The Moorings Village)

What’s a desert girl from New Mexico doing in South Florida by the ocean? I’ve always called it, “The Great Escape.” It all started on a hot muggy night a little over ten years ago, when a plane from the cold midwest touched down at Miami International Airport carrying a young journalist with big dreams. When I stepped onto the jet bridge the humidity slapped me across the face, wrapped its warm arms around me and whispered in my ear: “You’re meant to be here.”

I shrugged off the premonition and cabbed it to a part of Miami I’d never heard of called North Bay Village. It was so dark outside I couldn’t see the landscape, which I found disappointing. I had never been to Florida before and was eager to see its lush palm trees, crystal blue waters and much talked about “sexy people.” I settled for a grumpy cab driver, who smelled of cigars, stale sweat and cheap cologne.

After a short and relatively smooth drive, he dropped me off in front of the Best Western strategically placed next to Channel 7, where I would audition for Deco Drive in a few hours. I had been summoned by one of the most powerful stations in the country after their plans to hire a male entertainment reporter had fallen through.

I’ve never been great at auditions, but when I met Lynn Martinez and Belkys Nerey for the first time, it was as if I had known them for years (despite never having seen the show before.) For lack of a better description, we got on famously. After visiting with one another, the three of us did a scripted run-through of Deco, then an unscripted one (we call that ad-libbing in television) and I felt really good about it. Matter of fact, I nailed the audition. I just knew, for whatever reason, Miami was where I was meant to be.

I left South Florida as quickly as I came. I had to get back to Indianapolis, where I was working on a morning show at the time as an Entertainment/Features correspondent. Most job auditions in television are done on the sly and mine was no different. On the way to the airport, though, my agent called and said I had been offered the job. I accepted.

Read the rest of “The Great Escape” at www.wsvn.com or to shop any of the looks featured in the blog go to www.kokopalenki.com.

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Blog styled by Shari Bloch
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Blog Wardrobe provided by:www.kokopalenki.com
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