3.16.2015

ART & SOUND || A LONG A$$ BLOG POST ABOUT RECENT TIMES SPENT WITH ART [3]

I'm indecisive by nature. So when I am able to hold it down & decide on a single something, that alone is an accomplishment. To further fall in-love with said something because of a decision I made is even more miraculous and extremely humbling. My past travels this week were a culmination of three of these moments. 


First, thank heavens I decided to get away on a week-long trip with great friends. I don't know why I made that decision so much harder than it needed to be because there was no way I could have kept going without allowing myself a break from the routine I had fallen into. Score no.1: Boston √


















Secondly, thank heavens I decided to depart from friends & go to the ICA (Institute of Contemporary Art). Salem is cool & all but I only half liked Sabrina & the Teenage Witch (or was it "Sabrina The Teenage Witch?). Either way, I left that up to the rest of the clique & flew solo. 

1.12.2015

STYLE & FASHION || "In desperate need of STELLA JEAN" [20]

Stella Jean and I had a moment a while back. I read her interview with The Coveteur and instantly fell inlove with her recent collection. I hadn't quite known what I needed in a full skirt, but when I laid my eyes on this striped cock skirt beauty, I knew that was it. See, for the past year or so, I've been imagining my graduation get-ups. I felt it needed to be monumental, that my attire should be a symbolism as to the place I am, and where I'm headed. I wanted to create a more tangible memory I suppose. I wanted a damn cool skirt, and it had to be full. 


It's going to be pretty incredible to look back on a piece of clothing and have the memories of my undergraduate years of college come flooding back. Maybe after all, what we are truly paying for, is the moment. With a price tag well over $1000, I guess justifications will always present themselves. My optimism has landed me in some sort of personal challenge to talk about it so much, they it ends up right in my lap. I don't want no mediocre. I don't often get dressed, like really dressed, so when I do, I try not to hold back. I don't want to be silly & blow my cash on clothes instead of saving towards my future, but in a sense, does this not fall into both categories? I'm joshing. 

1.01.2015

WHAT ESCAPED || New year NEW NOTES

Because my iCloud notes might have some more value in this space. Maybe. 
...& why not start the year off right? Showing a little more love to this little space I've created here.  

1. There’s a point in time where I mentally want to check out of a friendship. Where we have reached a pinnacle and everything shifts. I will care too much. You talk to boys too much. I don’t want to have to worry about loosing you to someone. So instead I internalize. Silence myself and keep going. I don’t want to have to. I don’t know what's unresolved within me that causes me to have such a response. It’s not the first time it has happened. I guess I just never really healed from loosing someone who I thought was my first real true friend to a lame ass boyfriend. I guess I never got over the fact that even when she wasn’t with that person, I was far and distant from her mind. I want to cry. As I write this I am holding back tears. There is nothing I can do when someone I love is falling in love with another person. I don’t know if its selfishness, jealously, security, or all three, but I feel it, and it is very real. Do I not want friends to be happy? Im not quite sure. Have I internalized the relationship tropes I have witnessed in my life? It doesn’t matter how innocent, or how explicit, the flirting and possibility of a friend with another terrifies me. I wish it wasn’t so. I don’t know how to make this feeling go away. 

10.01.2014

STYLE & FASHION || FEMINIST FASHION: LAGERFELD LEADS PROTEST ON CHANEL RUNWAY [19]

I have played witness and activist in more protests during the past two weeks than I have my entire life. Be it the colonialist mentalities that still circulate the minds of family members, or the subconscious feared-straight mindset I have to the law. Either way, the fear is on its way back to the oppressors and I look forward to continuing my involvement in such crucial movements and effective mobilizing. 

It seems as though Chanel caught waves of the protest filled air that had been circulating given the unconventional sign-bearing models that took to the "catwalk" at the Paris FW Spring/Summer 2015 show just yesterday. Led by Lagerfeld himself, the models marched behind one another with signs commenting on the need for gender reconfiguration. Messages such as "History is her story," "Ladies first," or "Make Fashion not War" (later shown as text on canvas with the launch of Chanel's new clutches) were among some of the signs in hand as models representing the Chanel House bombarded the runway. Fashion is the ultimate cool, and it decided feminism was now and could now be a part of this world, this "cool." 

...But who really gets to make that call? Is it Lagerfeld? -A designer who has been pretty obtuse to conversations surrounding feminism much less within them? The ultra safe and oh so popular slim white models behind him? Or is it the powerhouse corporation behind a global fashion brand marketed to women? Who got to decide feminism was cool? (Was it B?)



9.13.2014

STYLE & FASHION || NYFWSS15: [THE MORNING AFTER] REFLECTION [18]

I started my 'morning after' as anyone should, chatting and joking about what happened the night before with my best friend and having a good meal- boiled sweet potato and cooked up mackerel with plantain. I then sat down to watch the Calvin Klein show, the very show I stood outside of just yesterday afternoon. Only I could barely watch the show since all I wanted to do was stare out the entire audience to see who I got a glimpse of (and who I didn’t) pre show. “Anna was there? She must have taken the back entrance.” “Oh there’s Grace! I got a good shot of her entering the show.” See that’s what they call the the ‘gawker' mentality. They’re always there season after season (and I suspect very few even make it to the inside of a show) with little to no real clue as to why they’re actually there. They thirst, but are never quenched. They can look, but can't touch. Yesterday I felt not only distanced from the people privileged enough to enter the show ticket in hand, but even more distanced from the very people I stood with outside of the shows.