A Quote by Chiara Ferragni

I was at lunch with some friends one day, and we looked down at our table - blond pasta, blond pizza - and then someone joked, 'Blonde salad,' and it stuck. — © Chiara Ferragni
I was at lunch with some friends one day, and we looked down at our table - blond pasta, blond pizza - and then someone joked, 'Blonde salad,' and it stuck.
Dyeing my hair has become a kind of addiction. I can't see myself as anything other than blond. Once you go blond, you stay blond forever.
I can't pull off blond, but I got some blond tips. Which is as close as I'll ever come to being in a '90s boy band.
I would say that's my normal thing, salad for lunch with chicken or some sort of protein and then pasta.
Being blond is definitely a different state of mind. I can't really put my finger on it, but the artifice of being blond has some incredible sort of sexual connotation.
If you're blond, as I am, and you have blond lashes, you have to wear mascara, otherwise you're invisible on stage.
Being blond just makes me feel happier, like when the sun's hitting you. The blond pops. It's cheerful.
Ew. Someone put the dog out, "Rosalie murmured wrinkling her nose. Have you herd this one, Psycho? how do a blond's brain cells die?" She didn't say anything. Well?" I asked."Do you know the punch line or not?" She looked pointedly at the TV and ignored me. Has she heard it?" I asked Edward. No." He answered. Awesome. So you'll enjoy this, bloodsucker--a blond's brain cells die alone.
I have a restaurant in Milan, and Paper Moon is five minutes away from my hotel, so I always go there for lunch. It's a casual place that serves good salad, pizza and pasta; the space is tight with tables close together, and it feels buzzy. Food comes out fast, too.
I looked up to find a slim blond figure standing in the doorway to the kitchen. For a frozen second, I looked at him and he looked at me, and then I screamed and threw my coffee, which hit him square in the groin.
When we were kids, I remember we'd use lemon in our hair and go into the sun, hoping it would make us blond. Obviously, I have very dark hair and olive skin, and when I was a kid, I wanted to be blond, of course. It never worked.
I had a bowl cut. That was pretty bad. Definitely a bowl cut. And I used to have blond, like really, really, blond hair when I was a kid. So blond bowl cut - that's what I was rocking when I was a little kid.
Tracey Cunningham does my color, and little by little, my ombre turned into more of a rooted blond, and then it got lighter and lighter. I love how I stand out more as a blond - it makes me feel bright and healthy.
If you are AC/DC, you don't get credit for slow songs. And if you are doing a show about food with a blond dude with crazy blond hair and tattoos who drives a hot rod, of course everyone is going to think everything you eat is deep-fried.
Aesthetically, I don't really like the blond, tan thing. I am pale. So I may as well embrace the pale. Long, blond hair and a bad spray tan is the stuff of my nightmares.
My problem was that I was blond. There were no heroes with blond hair. Robert Taylor and Henry Fonda, they all had dark hair. The only one I found was Van Johnson, who wasn't too cool. He was a nice, homely American boy. So I created my own image. It worked.
Hey, our hair's the same color," I said, eyeing us side by side in the mirror. Sure is, Girlfriend." Eric grinned at me. "But are you blond all the way down?" Don't you wish you knew?" Yes," he said simply. Well, you'll just have to wonder." I am," he said. "Blond everywhere," I could tell as much from your chest hair." He raised my arm to check my armpit. "You silly women, shaving your body hair," He said, dropping my arm.
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