I am not sure when it began, but I can't pass a gift shop without being magnetized inside to get lost in the dusty aisles of curios. It has become an area of contention on family trips when my father warns, "We do not have time for you to go into that tchotchke shop!" Traveling solo I am in sheer heaven and there is no ticky tacky souvenir stand that is safe. The older the store, the more mishmash-ed the items, the more outdated the inventory the better.

At the famous Rock Garden in Chandigarh, India my friend Andrea and I were the only Westerners. All the Indian boys posed for photos so they could tell their friends back home we were their American girlfriends. No matter we were older than their mothers! It was flattering and overwhelming. My favorite moment was when we came upon the tiny gift shop (photo above) - my oasis of chaotic collectibles.

The best part was returning home to place these magical totems in my Hollywood loft. They forever remind me of that moment in time and have become an objet d'art and of spirit in my shrines.