Ah Brazil.  You’ve given us great asses, bikini waxes, weave textures, and amazingly sexy fashion this Sao Paulo Fashion Week.  Here are some of my favorite looks.

Paula Raia

Animale

Animale

Beyond obsessed with these structured sandals from Animale.

PatBo

PatBo

Photo: Pinterest

Joggers are such a fun piece to dress up or down. Be sure to add accessories whether you’re doing flats or heels.  They are sweatpants after all, so if you’re wearing them outside of athletic purposes and want them to look like an outfit, accessories are a must.

Photo: Pinterest

Photo: Pinterest

Photo: Pinterest

I am so obsessed with the simple elegance of Aleksander Siradekian’s footwear aesthetic.  The signature tassels add a touch of glamour and elegance to otherwise very simple silhouettes, but he doesn’t skimp on the sexy.  In fact, the minimalist design means that he gets to go crazy with different colors, textures and embellishments, and I am here for all of them.

The shape of the pumps lend themselves to optimum toe cleavage, which you should know, that I love!  Random style tip: pumps that reveal more of the top of your foot make you appear taller when you wear pants.  If you are as in love as I am then here is the website http://www.siradekian.com

Photo: Instagram

Photo: Instagram

Photo: Instagram

Photo: Instagram

Photo: Instagram

I truly mean that.  I hate money.  I hate that I never seem to have enough of it.  I hate the joy I feel when my direct deposit hits (I know that’s confusing but stay with me).  I hate that everyone on social media seems to be so very wealthy and that I am apparently the only person struggling out here.  I hate that every time I get a little check, it goes almost as quickly as it comes.  I also hate that life constantly takes money.  Life is just expensive for no good reason.  I find myself spending some amount of money every damn day and I am just over it.

Each month I make a list of goals and things to do.  Kind of like a new years resolution check in each month.  Each time I tell myself I’m going to spend less and eat better, and each month I fail miserably.  I look at my debit account in horror and disbelief and ask myself why? Like how did this happen again?  If I didn’t know any better I could swear I have an alter ego like in the book Addicted by Zane, and this other person just comes out and spends all of my damn money on food.  In my defense cooking here is such a hassle, but that’s another topic for another post.

I am in a constant state of “I need to get my shit together.”  This becomes increasingly more difficult because I have people from all angles telling me that I should just give up and some days I think those people are right.  Some days I wonder: is this how a 27 year old woman should be living?  Shouldn’t things be better and more in order?  Shouldn’t things be more stable?  I just have these moments where I feel like I suck at this whole adult thing.  I feel so much pressure to be financially stable, in a relationship, and just have things figured out in general.  Everyone says these are the years where you figure all that stuff out, just relax blah blah blah.  But it’s hard to relax when you want so much and feel like you have so little. I hate feeling that way, because despite my hardships I have much more than most of the people I pass by everyday.  How dare I complain when at least I have a home to go to at night and a job to go to everyday?  I feel silly for complaining when I pass by these mothers panhandling to feed their children.  How dare I not be thankful?

But even still when I get to Brooklyn every evening and I lay in my bed alone I am haunted by my goals.  They keep me up.  They give me anxiety.  They bring me to tears, because I am fighting for them everyday, yet it seems like they’re running from me, and I don’t know how to catch up.  My goals and I are like unrequited lovers.  I want them so bad but it’s like they don’t think I’m worthy yet, and this feeling gets overwhelming and consuming.  What brought about this latest series of anxious thoughts?  Well I’ll tell you…

Whlep.  Shonda Rhimes and the writers for Scandal have done it again.  They use the hell out of their platform to communicate realistic issues, but they take it a step further with monologues that seem to sum up an entire issue in 30 seconds.  The theme of tonight’s episode was feminism and women’s empowerment.  If you are not familiar with Scandal and the cast, then stop reading, get a Netflix account, catch up, and then come back.

Now that that’s out of the way.  I have to talk about the two monologues that stood out on tonight’s episode.  One monologue  was spoken by Abby. She talks about how a woman is defined and identified with her male counterpart, and how our physical appearance is dissected regardless of what our actual purpose is.  Abby acts as the press secretary, and although she does her job well that is often eclipsed by her relationship and her appearance.  This is something that we see often in real life.  It seems to me that a woman’s worth is very closely tied whether or not there is a man in her life.  Additionally, we have observed that women are questioned about their vanity on red carpets and in interviews, whereas men are mostly interviewed about things of substance like their work. This was additionally visible in the #AskHerMore campaign this past awards season.  I wholeheartedly agreed with Abby’s viewpoint, because it is one that I live and identify with.

Photo: ABC

The second monologue that stood out to me was from Sue, a character played by Lena Dunham who is very well known as a feminist.  Sue penned a tell all book about her sexual exploits with various men in the political arena, and set out to extort money from those men in exchange for her silence about their sexual proclivities.    I was left with so very many questions following her rant about how she should be able to be as openly freaky as she wants to be without being judged.  This really struck a chord with me, because this past week in pop culture Amber Rose has been promoting her Slut Walk movement, and again I just have questions.

Photo: ABC

Photo: Instagram

If you are a woman who genuinely enjoys having sex with lots of men, then hey that’s your business.  But why exactly do you feel the need to broadcast it as if to show that you are proud to be promiscuous?  By no means am I saying that you should be ashamed, or that you should be more harshly judged than a man who does the same, but I’m trying to understand why your sex life is a source of pride for you?  I think that there is a stark difference between being ashamed and being private.  Why can’t your sex life just be your private business?  What purpose does it serve to expose such a personal part of your life?  I suppose you can make the argument that this somehow helps to defeat double standards about men and women and sex.  However, I just don’t think this is the way to go about it.  Far be it from me to tell another woman what should make her feel empowered, but I genuinely do not understand how this movement helps to end double standards.  It honestly seems to me that these women are looking for validation for their sex lives.  In my experience if you are comfortable with your decisions, then you don’t need anyone to rally behind or alongside you to say “hey what you’re doing is ok.”  So I question who you’re trying to convince here.  And I ask these questions in the least judgmental way possible, because I really want to understand the logic and the plan behind exposing your sex life to the world.

I cannot think of a single soul that was not moved upon hearing excerpts from Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie’s speech on Beyonce’s ‘Flawless.’  If you were curious like me you YouTube’d the speech to hear it in its entirety, and if you haven’t I encourage you to do so.  She speaks on so many things that need to be addressed in the conversation on feminism and how society grooms women from childhood to act and speak a certain way.  I will admit that it is not until I listened to this speech that I began to consider myself a feminist, but only in the purest form of the word.  Meaning I fully support equality for women.  There are two things that I have noticed since making this discovery about myself.

1. Some mainstream feminists are more oppressive than men in their standards for how women should act.  For example, if a woman wants to be a stay at home mom then she is somehow bringing down the whole gender.  To which I say, no.  She has the right to choose whatever kind of life she wants.
2. When some of these women speak about equal rights for women, they are speaking only about women that fit within the confines of what they think a woman should be.  They are not including women of different races, women with disabilities, women that are gay, etc.

Hence, I am not surprised by Patricia Arquette’s absent minded comments following her speech at the Academy Awards.

“It’s inexcusable we go around the world talking about equal rights for women in other countries … and we don’t have equal rights for women in America.The truth is even though we sort of feel like we have equal rights in America, there are huge issues that are at play that really do affect women. It’s time for all … the gay people and people of color that we’ve all fought for to fight for us now.”

Who is the us that she’s referring to?  This begs the question: which do you identify as first?  Do you label yourself a woman first, or an African American first?  With regard to society as a whole, I think that we are regarded as African American first and foremost.  As a result, we have an entirely different set of barriers to overcome before we even begin to talk about the inequality we face as women.  My message to mainstream feminists is that you cannot pick and choose the kind of woman you want to be treated equally.  When you seek to achieve equality for women, that should include all women.  Even those that don’t look like you or or practice your same religion or share your same lifestyle. It troubles me that we as black women aren’t viewed as “real women.”  If you don’t believe me look back at when we were sold as slaves.  No one said “hey those are women.  That’s someone’s mother.”  We were regarded as blacks first, and women second.  Our womanhood was used against us in that we were raped or forced to bare children that were taken away from us in one form or another.  Never were we treated as the damsel in distress.  And over time we have learned self sufficiency and independence, which we are now criticized for.  We have an incredible amount of strength and resilience out of necessity, and because of this the world looks at us as cold, angry, or harsh.  The truth is there is both power and weakness in the perceived strength of black women.  The world may not see us as vulnerable, innocent, in need of protection, etc.  But that makes me wonder if we need the world.  I don’t have the answers Sway.  Just thinking/writing out loud I suppose. “If we wait for some people to become agreeable or attractive before we begin to love them, we will never begin. If we are content to give them a cold impersonal ‘charity’ that is merely a matter of obligation, we will not trouble to understand them or to sympathize with them at all.” -Thomas Merton

Once again it is Spring time in New York circa 2013.  We endure these hellish winters to get to these amazing warm months, and trust me it is worth it.  I am on vacation in Harlem from my line sister who I love dearly, but who was driving me insane.

It was a Thursday and Scandal was coming on that night.  I rushed out of my last class to get to Harlem in time to stop at Jacob’s.  When I discovered this restaurant a single tear fell from my left eye.  They had oxtails buffet style.  Gasp!  The joy.  I can’t even explain it to you.   I got my food and happily trailed down the street ready for Olivia Pope to give me life.  Now my dear friend from Georgia Southern whose place I was staying at obviously had roommates.  One of them was a singer/actor/dancer blah blah blah.  Very nice girl from what I could tell.  I genuinely have no recollection of what this girl’s name is.  Like I cannot even tell you what her name starts with.  However, there are two things I will always remember about this girl for as long as I live.

1. She woke me up one morning singing old gospel music to the top of her lungs.
2. I know what she sounds like when she’s having sex.  I haven’t a clue what her name is or what it starts with, but I know this very intimate detail about her because it is New York and the walls are thin.

Here I am camped out in front of their television with my oxtails and I am ready for Scandal.  There is a knock at the door, and roommate girl gingerly walks out to answer it.  Let me pause here.  Oxtails, peel and eat shrimp, neck bones, and crab legs are not things that you want to be seen eating by people other than your very close friends and family.  So I look up from my food kind of annoyed.  In walks this very attractive guy.  Roommate girl introduces him, and I say hi blushing and embarrassed.  They go into her room and close the door.  Fine.  This is perfectly normal.  After about 30 minutes Scandal is getting good.  You know that Scandal is getting good when Cyrus has an emotional meltdown, Olivia has gotten read by at least two other characters and she has done that intense lip tremble.  I am on the edge of my seat when all of a sudden I hear roommate girl and sexy getting it in.  When I say I heard everything, I mean I heard everything.  I wanted to crawl out of my skin and just die.  I cannot ever recall being that uncomfortable.

I lose complete focus on the show and want to just run out of the apartment, because if they had come out of that room I was going to spontaneously combust from sheer embarrassment.  Like I know that you know that I heard EVERYTHING you just did.  Why didn’t you just leave the room and go to your friend’s room you ask?  Because Scandal is the shit that’s why and I didn’t want to miss the conclusion and she didn’t have a television in her room.  Don’t you dare judge me!

Somehow I went to sleep traumatized that night and lo and behold she woke me up the next morning singing gospel music to the top of her lungs.

I didn’t really blog about my personal experiences when I first moved to New York, so I feel inclined to let you in on some of my random adventures from when I first moved here.  So here you go.  All names have been changed to protect my friends.  Disclaimers: no cats were harmed and I do not support the use of drugs.  Ok let’s begin.

Allow me to set the scene for you.  It is Spring time in the city and I have two weeks left in my first semester at FIT.  My roommate who is also my line sister who also abandoned me in Penn Station at 1 am a few weeks prior and I needed a break from each other.  I may or may not go into detail about this in another post.  We’ll see.  Anyway.  Enter stage left an old friend from Georgia Southern who has a really cute place in Harlem.  She tells me that she is going home to Atlanta for a few weeks and offers to let me crash at her place while she’s away.  (Dionn if you are reading this I will love you forever for this kind act of generosity, and I swear I will pay you back somehow one day soon.)  My time in New York was winding down as I was heading home to Atlanta for the summer and I wanted to have one last fun night in New York before I left.  Be careful what you ask for guys, because this night got really weird really quick.

I have a dear friend here who decided to indulge me in my quest for a last fling in New York.  We will call her Chrissy.  Chrissy and I started the day by going to the Everyday People brunch/day party.  If you are ever in New York in the spring and/or summer then you should definitely attend this party.  There are models, and B list celebrities as far as the eye can see.  The music is amazing and people dance so hard that the floor literally feels like it’s going to cave in.  Of course I am too fearful to take part in that part of the turn up.  I’m not sure if that’s a good or bad way for your family and friends to find out you died.  Like oh yeah Jessica she died while drunk and twerking on a dance floor that fell in, in New York.  Wait, now that I’m reading it, it does seem kinda cool.  Anyway though Chrissy was talking to this really attractive security guard while I stood in the midst of some fashion hipster kids blowing clove cigarette smoke in my face.  Yeah I’m totally that friend that stands by awkwardly while her friends get hit on by hot guys.  I have yet to discover a way to not look like an abandoned puppy every time this happens.  This is me trying to be cool.

Just to show you that God loves me, Chrissy’s phone completely blacked out on her as she was getting the guy’s number.  We decided it was time to make an exit and get dinner, and then head to the 24 hour Apple store to get her phone reset.  Note: if you are ever in New York and your phone dies or does that weird thing where it just cuts off for no reason, there is a 24 hour Apple store on Madison Avenue.  It’s beautiful.  You should just go there anyway.

Whilst at the fancy 24 hour Apple store Chrissy gets a call from a friend inviting us to hang out with him and his homegirls in Chinatown.  We will call this friend Bentley.  We hop on the train and head over to the address he gave us.  Now let me just say this.  Chinatown can be a really cool place in the right parts in the light of day.  However, if you show up there at a random hour of the night it looks like a stereotypical scene from New York in the 80’s.  Have you ever seen Big Trouble in Little China? No?  Well you don’t know bad movies.   It looks like you are going to discover a body like they do within the first 30 seconds of Law and Order SVU.  It’s creepy.

We arrive at this address and the girl’s apartment is above a massage parlor.  This should have been our first clue that this night was gonna be…questionable.  Bentley shoots Chrissy a text saying: hey there are drugs up here don’t be alarmed.  We just assume that he’s talking about weed or maybe pain killers.  No.  No he wasn’t.  We walk up the most steep set of iron stairs I’ve ever seen in my life to this tiny apartment.  We walk past a room where there is a hairless cat.  If you do not know by now, I despise cats.  They give me the creeps, but hairless cats freak me out on another level.  They look like snakes with legs or something.  Once in the room of Bentley’s friend we see five chicks doing a comical amount of cocaine.  Have you ever seen Scarface?  At the end of the movie when he’s sitting at his desk and there is a mound of cocaine there?

Yeah that.  I have never seen people do cocaine in era life, but I didn’t want to overreact and freak them out so I played it cool.  Surprisingly the girl offered us some, which I though then and still think now was extremely generous of her.  She didn’t even know us, but was going to allow us to partake in her very expensive drug habit.  How kind?  Being the southern bells that we are we very politely declined and shot each other a glance that said: girl where the hell are we?  Someone suggested that we all go to a techno club up the block and I said yes before they could complete the statement.  So we gather our things and head out past the creepy hairless cat who shot me a glance that said: oh don’t worry shit is about to get way more strange.

We arrive at the techno club to meet up with their friends who are the children of some very affluent…Republicans.  We will call them Republicans.  They get bottle service, but order only vodka.  I do not ever drink vodka.  I imagine that if satan has tears they are made of vodka.  I hate it that much.  Chrissy and I are kind of standing back taking in the whole scene when suddenly we see the group we came in with put Molly’s in their drinks.  Certain that this was going to lead to a police investigation involving a drug overdose, I decide I should probably head back to Harlem.  At this point it is about 3 am and the characters on the subway at this hour are next level.  During this train ride I witnessed a cat fight between three transexuals, and was propositioned by a small 4’11 man to “make some money.”  Don’t tap out yet.  Things got progressively more weird.

I finally come up out of the subway on the wrong side of Harlem.  Again, my sense of direction is pure trash.  Not only am I on the wrong side of Harlem but it is raining profusely.  Not that cute rain at the end of a chick flick where the lead actress discovers she loves her best friend.  It was raining like God was trying to pressure wash the streets of Harlem.

Behind me there is a Popeyes. To this day I do not know if this was a 24 hour Popeyes or if it had just opened or if it was closing.  What I do know is that it was 4 in the morning and this Popeyes had a security guard.  If you are ever in doubt about the safety of a neighborhood, you can pretty much bet that if there is a security guard at a fast food restaurant it ain’t good. So I ask the security guard how to get to 131st Street.  Just then a toothless man comes and offers to pay for a cab for me.  Again I am a gentle southern rose so I politely declined.  This man cursed me out so bad, because he was offended that I would not take his money, and went on a rant about how if he were white I would’ve taken it.  Sir if you are out there and reading this I want you to know that it was not because you were black.  I am black.  I did not accept your crumpled up dollar bills because you were toothless and angry.

I took off in a smooth sprint/jog towards 131st Street and by the glory of God saw a yellow cab stopped in front of a Catholic church.  It was then that I had that recurring thought that my life is being secretly recorded because like no way.  My saving grace actually came in the form of a yellow cab in front of a church.  Look at God!  Won’t He do it?!  So anyway I got in the cab and headed to my temporary home in Harlem and I thanked God for sobriety and safety and slept until 2 pm the next day.  And that is the story of Chinatown and a hairless cat.

The red carpet for the 2015 Academy Awards AKA the Oscars did not disappoint.  Let me go on record as saying that I am not one of those people that lives for a fashion moment that comes as a result of a fashion troll.  I look to the red carpet for high glamour, pretty things, and sexy men.  Me likes a man in well tailored suit. With that being said here are some of my favorites.

These three were reaping for the Versace gang and looked damn good while doing so.  If you don’t know by now, I love blush and nude colors.

Zoe Saldana looks great with her post baby weight.  Scarlett Johansson’s slicked back hair paired with this stunning necklace in emerald green were a major win.  I will always be here for Jennifer Aniston.  The years have been very kind to her, and I will secretly always feel a way towards Brad Pitt for her idc idc idc.

Photo: Versace’s Instagram

Auntie Oprah showed out for the curvy girls.  The ruching and draping of this silk tulle gown paired with a cinched waist was a winning combination.

Photo: Vera Wang’s Instagram

Red was definitely having a moment.  Solange can literally wear any color and look amazing in it.  My makeup artist/hairstylist cousin informed me that the key to pulling this off is dark hair and neutral makeup.  While this is a tad casual for the event, the fabric makes it more formal.  Rosamund Pike is serving in this red on red on red in Givenchy.  I live for slicked back hair, and hers really allowed the dress to shine.  David Oyelowo’s waistcoat was up for debate on my Instagram, but I think he looks dapper in this Dolce and Gabbana tux.

I could not wait to see these Zuhair Murad gowns on the red carpet.  They all did them justice.

Elie Saab just gets it.  Emma Stone and J. Lo AKA SlayLo are red carpet favorites and you can see why.

The less is more gang featuring Reese Witherspoon and Gwyneth Paltrow in Tom Ford and Ralph & Russo respectively.  I for sure thought Reese was wearing white, but that is actually ice blue.  Loved both of these looks.

Lupita Nyongo was a vision in this pearl gown by Calvin Klein collection.  While her gowns are never overtly sexy, the confidence with which she wears them makes her so alluring.  She has this whole I know I’m the whiz but I’m also very approachable thing going.

So, a few things about Rita Ora.  I genuinely don’t know any of her music, and she is so hit or miss with me with her fashion choices, but she has been bringing it lately.  I am simply obsessed with her hair and this Marchesa gown is such a work of art.

I know that everyone is into the “Lob” but I could have gone with another hairstyle on Renee Russo.  The waves are competing with the ruffles and the accessories are a bit harsh for the occasion. However, I cannot go without acknowledging this beautiful J.Mendel gown.

Photo: J. Mendel Instagram

Ok ok I don’t want you guys to think this is a “whoa is me my life in New York is so tragic and hard” ranting and crying place.  My blog serves two purposes.  One is to post the fashion and style that I like and talk about it.  The second is to show people that life in New York is not what Carrie Bradshaw made us think it was.  Hence, the name.  You get it now, right?  I heard someone sum the New York experience up in this phrase: New York is like being in an abusive relationship with a really cool guy.  Obligatory disclaimer: I do not support domestic violence.  It’s just a metaphor so relax.  Or is it a simile?  Either way relax.  I hope to inspire another person to go after their dreams, but I want them to know that it will not be easy.  However, for every struggle, your success will be ten times greater.  If it helps you to read about my awkward weird obstacles to get you to go for what you want, then hey I’ll put myself out there to push you.  I can take the judgement…sometimes…in the privacy of my home I may feel a way though.

My life much like everyone else’s is a series of ups and downs.  No matter how bad things may get, they are only temporary and I will literally always end up better on the other side of things.  I’m ok.  I swear.  I was only able to write about the bad times because of my assurance that they won’t last.

So here are a few things that make New York amazing.

1. Culture.  There is culture literally everywhere here.  From graffiti to street artists to the guy that posts up in the West 4th Street train station with a sign that reads: Give a Dollar Name a Subject Get a Poem.  Street musicians and performers are a constant inspiration to me.  They are not waiting for a grand stage or a record deal.  They play their instruments and the perform anywhere they can just to be heard or seen, and they make their own audience.  This gets weird when the person is horribly untalented though.
2. Food.  There are an unusual number of great restaurants here.  I assume this is because there is so much competition and if your food sucks you won’t survive.
3. Free Shit.  This city is freaking expensive and everyone knows it.  I imagine that’s why you can get into the Metropolitan Museum of Art and the Brooklyn Museum by paying literally whatever you want to.  There are lots of cheap hang out spots everywhere in the city and Groupon is your friend no matter where you are.  My baby sis and I speculate that rent is so high to compensate for the fact that there is so much free and cheap shit here.
4. You can be anything you want to be here.  If you have always wanted to be Batman then you can find a group of 20 other people that want to be the rest of the Super Friends and that can legit be your life.
5. You will always be reminded that your life is not that bad.  You think you’re having a bad day because you forgot to put on rain boots and submerged your foot into 3 inches of dirty slush.  That is until you see the woman sitting in front of Starbucks with her 3 year old daughter begging for change.
6. People will always be impressed with you.  It is easy to thrive in Atlanta where the air is clean, life is cheap, and you can have literally no credit or assets yet still manage to lease a Bentley.  Because everyone knows that New York is a tough city, expectations for you to succeed are pretty low.  They will be impressed with anything you do.  People are always like “what you take the subway all by yourself all the way to Brooklyn everyday?”  Umm yeah.
7. The summers are worth the winters.  There is always a festival, day party, or cultural event going on.  You will find yourself just strolling through the city because the weather is nice.  That or you drank too much at a day party.
8. Celebrities come here because everyone here is a celebrity in their own mind.  Everyone is doing something really cool and amazing and they don’t have time to gawk at Beyonce eating.  Wait, that’s a lie.  Everyone has time to stop and gawk at Beyonce eating.  But you get it.
9. Opportunities are endless.  As long as you’re willing to put yourself out there you will stumble upon a great opportunity.  I met my editor at a shopping event.  Not knowing her influence, we chatted for a while.  She asked me what I wanted to do and let me know that she would reach out if she heard anything.  And whadda ya know she actually did.
10. You will find your spirit animal here.  I have always felt like I didn’t belong.  Although my friends from home are the shiz and I love them immensely, they rarely agree with me or understand where I’m coming from.  People here just get it.  No one understands the shade of just missing your train like a new New Yorker.  I mean it is literally one of the worst feelings in life to have those doors close right in your face.  It’s like seeing your crush kiss your best friend.  That sinking feeling in your gut.  I’m being dramatic (big surprise there) but it blows.