My Relationship With Fashion

My relationship with fashion has always been a well, turbulent one…See, just like almost every girl on the planet, I ran around in my mother’s pumps and swam in her silk dresses, fantasizing about growing up and luxuriating in fancy outfits. When I got older I saw the dark side of fashion: the sick models with the sunken in faces, the competitive although posh world, the devoted materialists—the superficial, and ironically reality part of fashion. So I fought with fashion, trying to decide if it was something I was willing to go hard for. I spent time trying to decide if it was something that would have my back in the end.

Eventually, we came to a compromise. I realized that it was okay to not love fashion in order to like fashion.

Fashion is more than runway shows. More than current trends. More than standing in front of a camera draped in luxe fabrics. More than what Blake Lively wore on the red carpet last week. It’s an archive of eras. Fashion is expression. Fashion is so much more than clothes.

I like fashion. Obsess over it from time to time. Love watching it, reading about it,seeing it. Yet, I’m not in love with it. To be in love with something, you have to love all of it and sadly, my love for fashion is not unconditional. I don’t have a passion for fashion. I don’t believe in fashion. I believe in style. Great style. Individual style. Yes, I have a passion for style.

For me it’s not being trendy or draping myself only in the most expensive designers. One of my biggest pet peeves are people who walk around dripping in well-crafted threads, nothing but a walking mannequin or editorial from the middle-of-the-book spread in Vogue. Walking around as self-proclaimed fashionistas yet not even knowing what kind of skirt is oppressIng the movement in highs, just that it’s Prada or Versace. I mean come on, can you get anymore original? 

It’s about having style. Style is looking good, not up-to-date or “En Vogue”. Style is not money, and so many people are confused by this. Yes, I adore browsing through the top designers’ collections, I occasionally lust after pieces and fantasize about owning some of them one day, but—and I will fully own this statement—I won’t pay over five hundred Benji’s for anything. Actually, unless it is tailored, designed, made only for me only for me to wear, nothing is worth over two hundred dollars. I’m talking handbags, shoes, boots, coats, jeans—everything. Unfortunately, the entire world is but a chunk of an ongoing business, that’s not reality and I will eventually pay more than I think is acceptable for a pair of to-die-for six-inch platform pumps.

Unfortunately.

Yes, I love quality and unique design, but I’m not paying $159 for a damn tee. How anyone can justify spending that kind of money on something made from cotton or jersey, something that is only going to be thrown into the washing machine with all the other washable garments when at some parts of the world people don’t even have clean water to wet their tongues with is beyond me—purely sick. Do you know how many starving mouths $159 can feed? Exactly.

I love clothes. I love shoes. I love bags. I love style. I love writing. But in some way I’ve always known that I was not passionate about fashion. I guess because I’ve always had it in perspective. How could I have ever been passionate about something, a world that is so skin-deep? I think I was just afraid to admit it.

People have said it numerous different ways, including the fabulous Coco Chanel and the beautiful Heidi Klum. Fashion is in one day, out the next. Trends come and go…fast. But style will always be there. Style is forever. Fashion is a moment, style is a lifetime.

ASB,

xoxxo

Peacy

I didn’t actually walk out of my room without my shirt…
 
I piled on two very distinct necklaces that don’t really go together for a dramatic look…and to cover up my bare middle to keep it PG-13. 

These are absolutely my favorite pairs of shoes I’ve ever owned. Every time I put them on I feel sensuous—classy but dangerous, sexy not skanky. 

When I picked up this blazer and the price tag said $99.99 I decided that I would only be trying it on for fun… 

But then I slipped and totally fell for the slim, but not tight fit, the exaggerated shoulders without coming off as costumey, (I know…that’s not a real word!) and I remember even saying, “This is it. This is perfect.” Such a relief, you wouldn’t believe how far I’ve searched for the perfect black blazer to throw on over anything. In this case, just my skin. 

Now as I look at this picture, I realize that I’m wearing three of my favorite pieces in my entire wardrobe. 

Ah, they make me fuzzy like the inside of a peach.

ASB,

xoxxo

Because of the rain, I wore a pair of flats today…

Felt like running and hiding underneath a rock all damn day. Sorry, the only things I like flat are my cars, like Lamborghini’s. With a busy day they can sometimes (that translates to ninety percent of the time) be a hassle, but I need to always be taking full advantage of my arches. You know what they say, if you got it…

ASB,

xoxxo

Do You Think You're Pretty?

I should…

But it’s hard. A couple days ago one of my male friends asked me this and I stumbled on answering the question for so long, you would have thought I was cumming or something. It’s not that I don’t like the way I look or don’t think that I’m an attractive person because I do. I know I am. I’m aware of my sex appeal, sultriness and physical beauty. But admitting it is the hard part.

I’m a firm believer of natural beauty, inner beauty—yet I do admire all kinds. But when he asked me the question, we were talking strictly outer beauty…the physical. In that case, it’s hard for me to say, “I’m pretty” for many reasons. I think it’s a part of human nature to compare yourself to other people and other ideas that are to you quintessentially beautiful. I’m guilty. There’s always someone (and it may only exist in your own mind) who is prettier more beautiful than you. I know this, so I don’t fret about it much. It just surprised me that when he asked me this question, I couldn’t answer him.

I like the way I look and there’s nothing I would add, just some things I wanna say deuces to. Well, actually just one. (This is really hard to even type but…) If I could have clear skin, I would be satisfied. I know there’s no such thing as perfection and I like to stay far from it because if I was, I’d be (even more) boring (than I already am). With clear skin, I wouldn’t be any where nearperfect. I’d still not like my teeth on the right side, I’d still wish I had thicker eyelahes, etc. I would be comfortable. 

But I guess life never really lets you get comfortable, huh?

I’ll never (fully) know what I look like to other people, what they perceive the things I call my flaws as. And a part of me likes that idea. The other part of me, my inner feline perhaps, is curious. So do I think other people think I’m pretty? Yeah. Do I think I’m pretty?

In order to think I’m pretty I have to feel pretty. True beauty comes from feeling joy, peace and happiness. I’ve never felt pretty.

Maybe one day I will.

ASB,

xoxxo

If I could have faded hair like Drew’s I would have all I need…

It only adds to the sex appeal of tousled, wavy bedroom hair that I die for. It screams, “I was too lazy to do my hair, but look I don’t have to ‘cause it still looks this damn good!” Epitome of effortlessly chic. (Sorry if that term is being overused.)

Drew looks absolutely spectacular at the London premiere of “Going the Distance”—I don’t even know where to start. That BREATHE tattoo is (not really digging the font style but nonetheless) so cool. That deep red lip with that olive green, vintage belt and nude YSL pumps is stunning. It’s casual but fancy, elegant but effortless…not as cheesy and overdone as a mid-thigh length strapless cocktail dress…

Do you die for the faded, grow-your-dyed-hair-out-until-your-overgrown-roots-are-part-of-your-hairstyle like I do? Let me know in the comments section.

ASB,

xoxxo

And I'm Not Usually A Prada Fan

I’m still not sure what they’re carrying…

I mean, can you get sexier than this single-sided thigh high curved split? Jet black, thin straps—so easy, comfortable, and free but it’ll make you look like you’re worth two billion. I think when you’ve mastered style, you’ve mastered how to look like you spent twelve hours getting ready when really it only took twelve minutes…

Wish I could see this from the back because I think the skin peeking out on the sides is the sexiest ever. It’s artful yet deviously sensual and not just sexy. All the shoes in this collection were (surprisingly) phenomenal.

P.S. I think this model (forgive me for not having her name fore you) is perfectly beautiful. 

I die for the minimalistic look of Prada’s S11 RTW collection. I’m not one for patterns or prints, but these (varying in size) stripes really is tempting.

For an industry which prides itself on being one step ahead of everything else, it seems as if the fashion industry is finally getting it. In Prada’s Spring 2010 ready-to-wear collection there were models who actually had subtle, graceful curves and ladylike meat on their bones like hips, calves and…arms! And did you peep the tattoos? I love that. As for the tatts and the more curvaceous models, this isn’t he first time I’ve seen them pop up on the runway, but since it seems like it won’t be just a trend…

In one day, out the other…

I thought now it was worthy to write about. Didn’t want to jinx anything (before)…

ASB,

xoxxo

Steeped In Gothic Glam And Biker Chic

It’s so fun to be unpredictable…

…because it’s so easy to be predictable. 

I love the combination of such a basic (and classic) outfit—a basic white tank and black pants—with a grungy, zippered cropped jacket and dangerous heels. The pants are elegant, the shoes are edgy, the top is plain and the jacket is super cool. 

This cropped motorcycle jacket is a beauty I (so luckily!) snagged in Zara during their end of the season sale about two months ago. It was truly love at first sight, from the beautifully crafted neckline to the kinda in the middle sleeve length.

I couldn’t believe it when I found these Body by Victoria wool ankle trousers on the “five for twenty dollars” rack at the semi-annual sale in the Jersey Gardens mall outlet store. When I peeped inside and saw that it was a size six, I died…in the good way! 

Theses Chinese Laundry shoes (I die for the original design by Alexander McQueen) add that gothic edge without being too dark or gloomy. The four-and-a half heel height is perfect for a day full of classes, meetings, and everything in between. 

This outfit is comfortable, simple yet complicated—off-duty fly…

ASB,

xoxxo

Hey You...

I went back and forth, up and down, and eventually made up my mind…

I’d do an “about me” as my first post.

I use the term loosely because I mean, really, how can you know me without actually knowing me?

I’m not the kind of person who can be described in a few lines or sentences—but for blogging’s sakes, I will attempt.

Go big or go home. I’m an all or nothing kinda chick. In or out, black or white.

To know a person, you need to know what that person wants. So what do I want? I won’t lie—I want a lot, but all the things that I want are simple in there own unique ways. I want to laugh at least once everyday. I want to achieve the dreams I dream every moment of every day before it’s too late. I want to be a mother one day. I want to leave a legacy bigger than myself. I want to find inner peace. Most of all, I want to live.

I’m passionate about style, writing, charity and fitness. (And black platform pumps, smoothies, black & white photos…) I love fashion, but it is not a passion. Got it in perspective. How can I be passionate about something, a world so skin-deep and superficial? 

If I could only be one ‘thing’ I would be a writer. Writing is a part of my identity as it is embedded in my soul, flowing through my veins as I breathe. To write I don’t need a pen or pencil or keyboard. All I need is silence—I write in my sleep.

But if you must…I want to be a writer, fashion editor, stylist, fitness trainer, photographer, author, mother…and friends with Beyonce.

That’s all for now.

ASB

xoxxo