Flower Power.

(Royal Bics bow-tie, Bench shirt, American Apparel oversized-pocket cardigan, F21 chiffon flower brooch, Boutiki beaded ring)

I thought it was funny that I wore this to a tacky beach-themed club party. I will vomit if I ever wear beach shorts on any surface other than sand.

My parents and brother left a couple of days ago (my mom & brother to TX, and my dad back to Afghanistan), and I'm feeling unusually disconnected from the world. I called in sick to work this morning for no apparent reason. I probably didn't want to deal with the life I built in independence before I got a jolt of much needed family time. I don't know if that exactly made sense but whatevs.

I really need to document all the crap I 'gathered' from the internet last month. My mom also brought me back some really essential basics for my wardrobe that I don't think I've mentioned before, all the more reason to abuse my Canon. Aside from that, during my little break from posting, I was spending a lot of time with my family because sometimes I get sucked into this theory where I'm living an individual life, disregarding the fact that I have loving and caring relatives all around me. It's sad because I subconsciously know that I feed this unhealthy theory when I cut time short with relatives just to be alone. WTF is that? I'm sorry that I have to share my mental instabilities with you all. Please bear with me while I sort through all my thoughts.

I've read several articles concerning the Alaia VS. The Met Gala/Anna Wintour/Harold Koda case, and I'm glad mainstream films--cough, The Devil Wears Prada--emphasize just how powerful ONE opinion can have over an entire billion-dollar industry. I'm no fashion historian, so please help me understand why Momma Wintour and AA can't hold hands and sing harmoniously around a warm camp-fire?

Enough of that; I must retire under my covers to assure that I am fully functioning tomorrow.

Oh, and Happy Mother's Day to all you baby makers!

<3

Ralphy's.

After reviewing this entry, I am sore from whiplash due to my schizophrenic tone of voice. Excuse me.





Hey sexies. I apologize for the gaps in my posts. It's quite hard to take a half-decent picture without a photographer at my beckoning call. All of you should know that I am an old hag who would prefer to stay home than go out and be a club-whore. The rare times I do find myself out, I purposely overdress to ensure my presence is recognized. Ha, is my nose too far in the air? The gay clubs here are usually unwelcoming, with their unnecessary cover charges, i'm-better-than-you bartenders, and bitchy atmospheres, so I'm always down to go a chill place with humorous heteros. Besides, I realized that the eye-candy at straight bars is much more bountiful than the sad selection of cruisers at your local Euphoria. Also, it never hurts to sit between three neck-breakingly beautiful women, all of whom attract the sexiest MFers GU. has to offer.

Grab your tissues girls. I must mention that my heart is being seized by the handsomest creation of man my eyes have ever seen. I've allowed myself to produce this perfect idea that every time I look at him, I smile for absolutely no reason, or when we fight it would stem from something incredibly silly. I further produce a scene of him waking up in my arms and leaning over to give my forehead the softest of kisses, so soft that when I finally awake, it would infer the end to an amazing night's sleep and the beginning of the most beautiful day with someone for whom my love was infinite.

UGHH I'm such a damn sap. And I better just stop now before my glasses fog over. Hilarious. Now here's the knee-slapper, I know nothing about him because we've never met, though I'm sure if I ever did meet him, I would collapse to the floor like obesity just struck me because his smell, his presence, hell his powerful yet subtle sex appeal would intoxicate my normal state of mind.

Anyway, moving on to G-rated content. My sister is coming back from a trip to the Phillipines with her godparents in a few hours, and I am a little more than excited to paw at the bounty of her purchases, because I know homegirl better had bought something for me!

& if you are piddling in anticipation for NY Fall 2009, piddle a little more here.

Chopped & Screwed.

HECKKKAA obsessed with T-Pain's & Luda's "Chopped & Screwed." Geeze, talk about Cali slang, and homeboy doesn't even live there. Oh well, some things are worth biting.

Today in church, my Chaplin focused his homily on what happens next after this physical life on earth, eventually discussing our ultimate happiness being shared with God in Heaven. Though I see myself as a somewhat-devout Catholic, I couldn't keep focus on the topic but thought further and wondered if I do make it to my ultimate happiness with God (as I intend to), do I live with him and his people forever, for all of eternity? I mean, what is life after death? I certainly don't question my church's teachings, however I am a very inquisitive person, and I just want to know what's in store for me. Thinking about the future of our world and who knows, the worlds proceeding us is quite frightening to me, but naturally, the future of this lifetime, of my lifetime is accordingly unknown. I just pray to God that I'm ready for anything.

EPIPHANIES, but not really.

I feel like a considerable amount of designers for this Spring season have referenced Nicholas Ghesquiere's structured silhouettes from Balenciaga's Spring '08 collection. I think because Ghesquiere constructed most of his tops with an exaggerated cap shoulder, designers want to keep reinventing it, personally without success so far. Though, I think the evolution of Fashion Week has convinced designers to have a general idea that clothes should continue to be reinvented without ever having them first become timeless. I mean honestly, what people have the financial backing to continually 'refurbish' the contents in their closets from season to season other than the fashion elite and celebrities? This subject has forced me to think about why the fashion industry is so highly coveted amongst the norm of a general public, and I have finally arrived at the obvious theory that it is the exclusivity of the brand that empowers this very industry. You wouldn't just stumble across MMM's Incognito sunglasses at Macy's; then again, I wouldn't be surprised if street-vendors started selling them in a couple months thanks to our enslaved workers in the third-world.

Marni SS09
I just thought this picture was painfully entertaining, and if I have to point out why, just shoot me.

Lastly, I am angrily waiting for Balenciaga & Lanvin to show. Hurry up boys!