Break Up to Make Up, That's All We Do
Good Day, Everyone!
It's been quite a while since I've posted anything--over five(5) months, and want to apologize to you. I've spent this time growing in ways that I didn't anticipate on the opposite side of this laptop.
For a minute, I felt lost in fashion. There were so many whistles and bells all tugging and pulling for my attention, I had to detach from the whole gamut for a minute. I remember one cycle of "America's Next Top Model," where Tyra said that "The fashion industry is all about brainwashing people into buying something."
So in other words, Tyra, if I spray Yves Saint Laurent's fragrance, "Parisienne" all over my body like Kate Moss (cold shower very necessary after this video :0)), my life will be a bed of roses, and I, too, can have a tawdry tryst with the likes of her leading man to boot?
Well in that case, let me grab my Visa and start swiping to my heart's content!
I thought about how in one season, I'm to adorn myself with laced, feminine frocks revealing my gams, and then the next I'm to wear a granny dress and some combat boots, covering me from head to toe. Help me understand if I am in gladiator platforms that elevate me to the heights of an Ashanti warrior princess this season, or am I rocking the Sam Edelman ballerina flats with a leggings and babydoll dresses? How would I keep up when fashion was so fickle and vacillated from one extreme to another? How would my budget support my fashion habit? I was a in whirlwind with all these changes, and with neither Dorothy and the click of her ruby-encrusted heels, or the Napoleonic Wiz to guide me safely back home, I took a pause. My fashion magazines stacked and overflowing its basket in the corner of my living room, I withdrew from the wisdom of their printed, glossy pages to guide me safely through the impending season.
On this side of the laptop--where the both the wild things and my keypad are, I did some reorganization. My closet is color-coded, and everything has its place, yet something felt out of touch and incongruous. No different from Corporate America and its "restructuring" and "re-orging," I had to make changes and there were bound to be some layoffs. I rearranged my closet more sensibly, beginning with denim and ending with ethnic prints and accessories. As I stood back, viewing my progress, I began to think of my clothes and the eras of my life in which I wore them. The night we fell in love. The time we spent by the waters' edge and gazing lovingly in each others' eyes. The meeting of our respective, beloved family and friends...then, the memory of The distance. The lack of willingness to make a lifetime commitment. The unreturned phone calls. The black hole where both his memories of me and my feelings of abandonment were stashed. I saw clearly, for the first time, that I'd amassed a great deal of black clothing--slacks with-or-without-pinstripes-if-you-please, oxfords, t-shirts, tanks and dresses at various lengths--halter, v-neck, spaghetti strapped, to the ankle, to the knee, about which Lil John and his Eastside Boys could remix a platinum hit of "To the Window! To the Wall!"
The Dark Age was an overt reflection of the dark period of my life, The Heartbreak Hotel Era, where I was mourning the loss of love. Wearing black was a comfort, and would allow me to move about like a shadow in the world, unseen and unheard, and would act as a shaman, warding off the evil spirits of heartbreak, loneliness and desolation. Colleagues and friends oftentimes commented that I "wore black all the time," and I replied that it was just "easier."
It wasn't easier, I was just clinging to an age that had long since passed. It wasn't fashion that was the culprit, the culprit was me. I began to realize that by donning these self-imposed cloaks of darkness, I was prolonging my uber-extended stay in Heartbreak Hotel--which was no five star venue, mind you. Not only are there painful memories that bite like bedbugs, the downstairs bar is open 24-hours, constantly offering you a friendly place--"where everybody knows your name"--to drown your sorrows.
I've since donated the threads which cloaked the Dark Age to a charitable organization, and I pray they help someone find their own light. Making the conscious decision to remove The Dark Age from my space, has allowed for beauty and inspiration to flow again. I've never been big on prints, but with the lively colorblocks at Louis Vuitton and the stellar Dolce & Gabanna dress Brittney Spears is rocking on the cover of Bazaar's subscribers edition, I'm compelled to step up, and step out into the world donning some bold new colorful fashion choices.
I love this dress, because the way the wind is blowing around it, Britney looks like a beautiful butterfly. She's emerged from her chrysalis, stronger, better, faster, wiser...and so have I. While I may very well not end up paired with Kate Moss's leading man from the Parisienne spot, I'm certain to attract and inspire new life, and that's plenty of stardust to preserve my sexy in The Age of Enlightenment.
Deuces Dark Ages, This Black Butterfly has flown the coup!
Inspire yourself and check out Deniece Williams live in the 1984 smash, "Black Butterfly"
Your Friend In Fashion,
Emteezy1
It's been quite a while since I've posted anything--over five(5) months, and want to apologize to you. I've spent this time growing in ways that I didn't anticipate on the opposite side of this laptop.
For a minute, I felt lost in fashion. There were so many whistles and bells all tugging and pulling for my attention, I had to detach from the whole gamut for a minute. I remember one cycle of "America's Next Top Model," where Tyra said that "The fashion industry is all about brainwashing people into buying something."
So in other words, Tyra, if I spray Yves Saint Laurent's fragrance, "Parisienne" all over my body like Kate Moss (cold shower very necessary after this video :0)), my life will be a bed of roses, and I, too, can have a tawdry tryst with the likes of her leading man to boot?
Well in that case, let me grab my Visa and start swiping to my heart's content!
I thought about how in one season, I'm to adorn myself with laced, feminine frocks revealing my gams, and then the next I'm to wear a granny dress and some combat boots, covering me from head to toe. Help me understand if I am in gladiator platforms that elevate me to the heights of an Ashanti warrior princess this season, or am I rocking the Sam Edelman ballerina flats with a leggings and babydoll dresses? How would I keep up when fashion was so fickle and vacillated from one extreme to another? How would my budget support my fashion habit? I was a in whirlwind with all these changes, and with neither Dorothy and the click of her ruby-encrusted heels, or the Napoleonic Wiz to guide me safely back home, I took a pause. My fashion magazines stacked and overflowing its basket in the corner of my living room, I withdrew from the wisdom of their printed, glossy pages to guide me safely through the impending season.
On this side of the laptop--where the both the wild things and my keypad are, I did some reorganization. My closet is color-coded, and everything has its place, yet something felt out of touch and incongruous. No different from Corporate America and its "restructuring" and "re-orging," I had to make changes and there were bound to be some layoffs. I rearranged my closet more sensibly, beginning with denim and ending with ethnic prints and accessories. As I stood back, viewing my progress, I began to think of my clothes and the eras of my life in which I wore them. The night we fell in love. The time we spent by the waters' edge and gazing lovingly in each others' eyes. The meeting of our respective, beloved family and friends...then, the memory of The distance. The lack of willingness to make a lifetime commitment. The unreturned phone calls. The black hole where both his memories of me and my feelings of abandonment were stashed. I saw clearly, for the first time, that I'd amassed a great deal of black clothing--slacks with-or-without-pinstripes-if-you-please, oxfords, t-shirts, tanks and dresses at various lengths--halter, v-neck, spaghetti strapped, to the ankle, to the knee, about which Lil John and his Eastside Boys could remix a platinum hit of "To the Window! To the Wall!"
The Dark Age was an overt reflection of the dark period of my life, The Heartbreak Hotel Era, where I was mourning the loss of love. Wearing black was a comfort, and would allow me to move about like a shadow in the world, unseen and unheard, and would act as a shaman, warding off the evil spirits of heartbreak, loneliness and desolation. Colleagues and friends oftentimes commented that I "wore black all the time," and I replied that it was just "easier."
It wasn't easier, I was just clinging to an age that had long since passed. It wasn't fashion that was the culprit, the culprit was me. I began to realize that by donning these self-imposed cloaks of darkness, I was prolonging my uber-extended stay in Heartbreak Hotel--which was no five star venue, mind you. Not only are there painful memories that bite like bedbugs, the downstairs bar is open 24-hours, constantly offering you a friendly place--"where everybody knows your name"--to drown your sorrows.
I've since donated the threads which cloaked the Dark Age to a charitable organization, and I pray they help someone find their own light. Making the conscious decision to remove The Dark Age from my space, has allowed for beauty and inspiration to flow again. I've never been big on prints, but with the lively colorblocks at Louis Vuitton and the stellar Dolce & Gabanna dress Brittney Spears is rocking on the cover of Bazaar's subscribers edition, I'm compelled to step up, and step out into the world donning some bold new colorful fashion choices.
I love this dress, because the way the wind is blowing around it, Britney looks like a beautiful butterfly. She's emerged from her chrysalis, stronger, better, faster, wiser...and so have I. While I may very well not end up paired with Kate Moss's leading man from the Parisienne spot, I'm certain to attract and inspire new life, and that's plenty of stardust to preserve my sexy in The Age of Enlightenment.
Deuces Dark Ages, This Black Butterfly has flown the coup!
Inspire yourself and check out Deniece Williams live in the 1984 smash, "Black Butterfly"
Your Friend In Fashion,
Emteezy1
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