my fave queen does sequins!!

Seriously, I should be clobbered for this glaring omission, but, that's not going to happen. *huge grin* I'm not completely certain how I neglected to include these sequined beauties by Alexander McQueen in my previous post, but here they are!!

Let's make an entrance, shall we?!!

I'd already pictured the top pair of shoes previously. This past weekend, I stopped by the McQueen store in NY and asked about them. Naturally, the salesperson, an annoying, ersatz queen, attempted to give me some attitude!! I chuck it up to the fact that he's jealous he'll never be able to wear the beauties in his life time; not even if he adorned drag and partied at Studio 54!! There's a waiting list and they're not even available in store. So I called the store in London... Haha!!! I'm beyond help!! I'll probably not get them, but never say never. I'm thinking about reworking the exchange rate to my benefit—skip the ever-falling dollar and parlay some naira into pounds or euros!! Ahh... the things I come up with. And isn't the pump to die for?? I even find myself going back on my notion that I could never do a sequined purse.

Perhaps, in a former lifetime, I was Hindu and reincarnated as a magpie. How else can I explain my attraction to ridiculously shiny objects??!!

Glamourous kisses.


I'm an uptown gyrl??!!

In reality, this title evokes a miscellany of progressive rebelliousness at the sad attempt to confine myself to this none-the-less intrinsic construct of society (ahhh.. sooo downtown, no??)—the even more laughable irony: uptown-ness is oh-so noticeable!! I couldn't even begin to unravel the conflicting mysteries of my lifestyle: A devout admirer of Mlle Coco—and yet, she was such a revolutionary (that equals downtown attitude!!)—and, equally a lover of almost every piece designed under the revered name "Chanel" (soooo uptown baby, uptown baby!! Yay!! Lord Tariq!!); how do I define this?? Oh, make that a lover from afar, I still can't afford $10000 Chanel jackets!! Haha!! And naturally, I prefer to wear shirts/tops as short dresses just barely covering my booty because I can and it's so so sexy, borderline raunchy; a string or two of pearls accompanying my risqué outfit, perhaps. Again, how do I classify this??!! Fashionably h**chie?? *shaking my head in fits of giggles* Perhaps, it's the notion I think, that I've never fit in any one category. Never will.
I'm enthusiastically black (and Nigerian) and I love many Nigerian/African prints; but, how I detest the word "urban?!" describing anything.
Seriously, what does it even mean??!!
*Again, conflicting.*

But call me an uptown gyrl because I sure-as-Prince-William-is-my-future-hubby love YSL's Uptown Bag!!! Naturally, a weekend in Manhattan includes a stopover at BG, where I had my (second) ten-fifteen minute coveting pass to the black patent YSL bag. Barely grazing the bucket portion of the bag—we don't want any fingerprints on it—I exchange a loving, pleading look with my bag. Politely, I tell the sales lady a few seconds into her sales pitch, that I've been here before and I'd just like to admire the bag. She retreats, nodding a mute understanding or exasperation. It's hard to tell the expression on her botoxed face.
And, I almost care.
I'm simply taking my time with this beautiful bag. I admire both myself and the bag (ahh vanity!!) in the mirrors of the adjacent less crowded (sunglass displays) enclave leading to elevators that no one ever seems to use. Enjoyable me-time. *smile* Perhaps a miracle will happen... Someone will see how good the bag looks on my arm and decide to buy it for me; or in my usual (but sadly, distorted) reverie, the decimal point in the price tag is moved one over to the left and the price is really 3 digits rather than 4!! *cue: Hallelujah chorus*
Neither scenario takes form.
Finally, I put the bag ever so delicately back on its hanger.
I can't afford it. Especially now. It's Christmas season, time to shop for family and friends; not myself.
[Lord hear my prayer.
And Santa come in the form of my yet-to-be lover bearing my YSL BAG!! It's available at Saks, and the croc version (I don't want that) are at Neiman's and Bergdorf's.]

And speaking of, I've fallen into one of my seemingly-drug-induced love affairs with LV Spring '08 bags. The French must be absolutely stuck on Marc Jacob's derrière—especially after the atrocious limited edition mistake he put out this past summer (forgive my crass portrait). They let him to take uptown-y LV bags downtown to be spray-painted, graffitied and generally deconstructed, resulting in a collection that I simply can't wait to see up close!! For the first time, I'm not totally against any piece of arm candy that has LV stamped or sewn all over it. I mean aren't the monogram (canvas and multicolored) collections the most numerous and ill-replicated motifs out there?? Eeeck!!
How could I just not love these??

Double air kisses, *fluttering crystal-encrusted eye-lashes*


shimmer with sequins

...been around the world and I, I, I...
(remember the Lisa Stansfield hit?? Or am I completely dating myself here?!! Haha.)
Daahlings, I'm a wannabe jet-setter. *fluttering eyelashes* Now here's a post that I've finally completed :)

Last February, when we were getting excited about all the glam that fall promised, I would never have fathomed just how much shimmery, sparkly pieces the shoppes would carry. And guess what?? I love 'em all!! Well, okay, not all of them, but I love having so many options. When Joy Bryant stepped out in that gorgy sequined number from Erin Fetherston's Holiday 2007 collection at Glamour's Fashion Gives Back last month, I simply went crazy for sequins. Never mind, the fact that I've been eyeing this Elizabeth & James (Olsen twins' line) sequins tunic forever and finally put an order in!! It's simply the most beautiful and perfect shape!! (Sadly, I don't know which twin is adorning it in the accompanying picture.)

Utterly glam—dancing in the night light—the shimmery reflections of sequins (on a dress) intimate tantalizing glimpses into one's soul. The elusory flecks of color in one's eyes; if they're not glazed over from too much champagne or liquor. Haha!! Naturally, I've scoured all of my frequent online shopping webbies for my fave sequin and paillette pieces. There are newer pieces each day, it seems. Given October is the perfect month to stock up on party pieces for the end of the year, I'd say go ahead a pick up one or... four sequin numbers :). Then, a couple during Christmas sales!! And, believe me, there are all kinds of items in sequins!! The only thing is I could never do a sequined purse/clutch. I just don't fancy them. Here are some of my faves from the start of this month.

I'm almost considering those leggings, even though I won't pay more than 20 bucks for a pair of leggings—umm.. no, not even cashmere leggings will sway me. So we'll see!! I'm labeling the pieces... Be back soon!!

Glam kisses.

by their schticks, ye shall know them...

Let me preface this post by proclaiming my overwhelming love for style and indeed, fashion; the following is really just a satirical look at an aspect of the mechanisms of fash industry. So no hard feelings, eh?? Sugar kisses in advance.

So, I was saying yesterday, I've uncovered the simple formulaic guideline—unspoken it is, so I imagine it must be infused through the vents of the biannual pre-fash weeks conference location1—to which designers and fashion writers subscribe with respect to collections shown during fash weeks. Here are the main points:

~ If the designer is male, over 45 years old and from an older era or well-recognised fashion House, his work is allowed to be classy chic; and reviews are obliging, the odd flak thrown in for fun. Oh and of course, these designers are required to have at least 60-70 pieces in a single collection!! Examples: Oscar de la Renta, Armani, Valentino. I wonder what would happen if dearest Armani decided to showcase each of his lines... You do the math.

~ If the designer is male and in charge of a renowned, but recovering Fashion House; he is less than 45 years. His work is avant-garde (read half unwearable and/or almost unflattering for 95% of women, in the US at least.) However, the collections are highly praised. High fashion dept. stores love these works as well, I can imagine buyers à la Cruella de Vil demanding alterations to make them suitable for their clientele. Examples: Balenciaga, Alber Elbaz (both of whom I happen to love too!! Sad.)

~ If the designer is male and shows at LFW or Paris2, he is in his late 20's to 30's and his work is almost certainly drawn from questionable third century inspirations interpreted for today (read unwearable and quite possibly appalling in some cases.) Sometimes, there are, of course, design elements that lend a brilliance to the construction of these clothes, but that's just it!! They are clothes, not mechanical or flying objects!! They should exhibit neatly sewn seams and not cause the wearer to resemble an escapee from a mental institution that houses both humans and wild beests simultaneously. Now guess what... Reviews consider the designers geniuses??!! Examples: Gareth Pugh, Henry Holland, Martin Margiela. You know I can't stand ugly pics but, what baffles me is the audience sitting there "intensely" absorbing these... (pics to right)

~ If the designer is female, she almost certainly designs more wearable clothing, even prettier too. Slightly younger—not necessarily a requirement, however—female designers tend to express the avant-garde twist of their male counterparts in more whimsical accessories. Reviews are generally favorable, although there's also the need to dissect how the inspiration for the collection is actually manifested through the pieces. And Lord forbid you do not present a coherent collection!! Please hang your head low in shame!! Haha. Oh, somebody please save me!! Examples: Vivienne Westwood, Tracey Reese, Carolina Herrera, Donna Karen.

Aren't there way more male designers than there are female?!!

Truffles and sweet kisses.

1. Okay, so evidence for these prefash week conference has not been confirmed, but I imagine that if they did take place, the location would not be announced until two hours before. It's all about exclusivity!! Darn it!!
2. I think the fawning over Brit and French young geniuses, ahem, stems back to the 17th/18th century when the French (according to popular belief) became the pioneers of "fashion design" as we know it today. Indeed, it was revolutionary, but under the rigid Ancien Regime, it took two more centuries to share the joy of what was then considered beautiful clothing. The English, a more relaxed people, were esteemed for the venerable standards of bespoke Savile Row tailors and were happy to propagate the fashionable culture; the French, of course, the self-appointed godfathers of fashion. And so it still applies in the Fash world. Don't you see how the French look down at every other people?? Haha. I think it's hilarious. Okay, I'm not ridiculing. Mlle Chanel was totally French!!


A letter... or not.

"More than kisses, letters mingle souls..." ~John Donne

My darling sweets,
'Tis with great relish I set forth to transcribe my circumstances heretofore, excepting as I recall, it doth resemble a quagmire of feckless—but, ohhh pleasurable—undertakings amidst terrible headache spells.1 Certainly, thou art privy to much of my habits—foraging in the Houses of Neiman's et al, sojourning at the Gramercy etc; and considerable aspirations that I may reveal at a later time...

I feel another migraine coming on from my pathetic Old English ranting.
Back to English in 2007.

[Actually my head's pounding and my eyes can feel the vibrations, but I'm better now (three hours later) :)]

Anyway, I'm super delighted the four major fash weeks are over. Please feed the models now!! (Two celery sticks, no dressing, per 85lb frame. Haha, I'm cracking myself up!! Okay seriously, it's not a laughing matter, but feed them. Thanks.)

Of course, I'll still watch out for the minor shows; but the revelry is over for the most part. I've seen thousands!! of outfits, and I've managed to accumulate just a few fave complete ensembles or pieces in my stylebook. Three thousand, one hundred and eighty three looks to be precise. Yikes!! Picking out faves has/is/will always be a hassle for me. During the Milan shows, dread overtook my sweet anticipation as I clicked to view each designer's pieces—a silent, albeit fervent invocation for the subsequent collection showing a maximum thirty outfits. If I was lucky. *scoff* I'm thoroughly grateful my right wrist and fingers did not rise up in insurgency, breaking off and simply refusing to connect my right hand considering the continuous amount of mouse pad tapping I did.2 My extravagant number of fave ensembles/pieces forces me to question whether I really have an eye for style. I seriously could be exhibiting an unnatural condition of materialistic hedonism and sartorial appreciation ad nauseam, either of which should certainly be analyzed by a therapist. So you see, Houston, we have a problem.

Even as NY fash week took off, I knew I'd need to resolve a method to show a good portion of my Spring 08 fave pieces. I just don't like the flickr or sliding picture thing you have to use on b.l.(bleh)ogger (still hate the word); you know what I'm talking about... So I've decided to learn how to build my website with the Adobe Web Premium. That's been taking up some of my time too. I know I could've had it built, but do you know a more persnickety person (than myself) perhaps?? Plus, it's super fun. (I am an undercover geek!!) So until I unveil my new webbie at the end of the year, I'll post a dismal number of pieces I loved in the next couple of days on b.l.(bleh)ogger, and continue writing as usual :)

There were so many pretty things, I'm still in sartorial bliss. (Therapist??!!) I looove fashion but I try not to read many reviews of designers, especially immediately after the shows; though, they do make for an animated mélange of vagaries and fads based on the reviewer's perspectives. And I think I've come up with the unspoken formulaic prescription to which quite a number of designers and fashion writers subscribe. I'll share in my next post, tonight/tomorrow.

I've to run errands that simply can't wait. You know it's important, because it's rainy outside and I still have to go. Sheesh.
Be back before you can say puttanesca. Hahaha. (I'm really on something)

Big double kisses on each cheek.

1. Did they have a word for migraines in the 18th century??
2. Should I even be bringing attention to the fact that I think that sounds errrr... eecky, perhaps.??