Off to see the Wizard, the Wonderful Wizard of Fashion: Alexander McQueen's Savage Beauty Exhibit

You know there was absolutely no way I was going to miss the Alexander McQueen Savage Beauty exhibit at the Met, right? Dude, you have NO idea the ordeal I went through to see it.

Friday I went with two friends and stayed on the line TO GET ON THE LINE for like 1 1/2 hours. Yes, there was definitely a line to actually get in line.  Needless to say, we dipped.

I, however, do not give up so easily.  Sunday was the last day of the exhibit and I was certain I'd just see it then.  No one told me what I had signed myself up for.  From what I hear, everyone had some sort of obstacle course to go through to see this shit. Let me run down mine.

6:00 am   Alarm goes off. I think.  Well, I set it for 6!....I think.

7:30 am   I actually get out of bed, shower, clean face, throw on Olsen sized shades and leave by 8

9:00 am   Get off train lost and sick

9:15 am   Find Starbucks and all is well with the world

9:20 am   Ask lady where the fuck the museum is, hop on bus, spot pretty eyed dreadhead, distraction ensues

9:30 am   Get off bus full of excitement, literally run to the museum which is crowded by people everywhere.  I see a break in the 'line' and hop in.  Those quotations are there for a reason, my friend.  About five minutes into the line the foreign guy in front of me turns around and attempts to go ape shit on me.  Seriously.  He's all, "NO CUTTING!.." and "THE LINES BACK THERE!". In the midst of this, the fucker grabs my elbow as if he's going to literally pull me out of line.  In my head, I am utterly confused because I was fucking positive that I had, in fact, joined at the end of the line.  Then the two little Asian kids behind me started piping (pipe-ing? Spell check, motherfucker?) in.  Then Foriegner 1 Guy grabs my arm AGAIN.  This time despite my confusion, a small amount of my common sense kicked in and I slapped his hand off me and gave a very stern "DON'T PUT YOUR HANDS ON ME," complete with a dramatic slow blink and head motion. No neck roll though. Lmao. I went to the back of the line because I was actually in the wrong, but still...

9:40 am   Line seemed as if it were a good twelve blocks long.  I would've sworn every able body in the city of New York was in that damn line.  And it was scorching hot. And sunny.  I was fuming. I just told my dad about the line and he said the only way he'd stay in a line like that was if Jesus Christ was gonna be making an appearance. Hysterical.

9:50 am   Accepted that I would never let myself live it down if I didn't see the shit so I stayed.  The ladies in front of me kept me entertained.  One kept falling asleep standing up everytime the line stood still for more than a minute.  The other one kept pulling out random shit from her purse (two umbrellas, newspaper, and a bra). 

12:00 am   Finally made it in the building to purchase tickets. After the ticket line was the line to actually see the exhibit.  This line was a concrete three hour wait. I needed an intermission. I went through the museum to the cafe to eat before I rammed my head into a statue or something.  Most people already know I'm a scaredy cat. Museums are on the list of things that I don't really fuck with like that (at least, alone). I am especially freaked out by those old medieval statue thingys that are like metal soldiers (you know, with the head piece on it and the sword? I don't think I realized how much of an idiot I am until just now lol). I always think of Scooby Doo when I see them.  Like, even though those things are supposed to be empty, someone may actually be in them shits. Annnyywho, I went to the cafe, got charged $3 for a fucking Dasani and choked on a french fry.

1:00 pm  On line.  Officially. 

4:00 pm   I believe it was around this time that I went in. I was immediately high.  I wont attempt to articulate this experience because words just aren't enough. Towards the end, I turned bitch. I felt tears forming and I thought I was going to lose it. I didn't though.  I'm from Detroit.  We don't do that shit. Kidding. #homesickdotcom.

5:00 pm   Was heading out of the building

*all times are approximate.  i have the memory of a hippie.

I will revisit this experience again once the newness wears off and get more technical about what I saw and the impact it had on me , but that day is not today.

Enjoy the pics I sneaked while I was in there.

It'll be flyy, if you were my b.u.d.d.y

Friends With Benefits...
Not sure exactly how I feel about it.
Everyone says the same thing, sounds good in theory but in actuality it never works

I saw the movie and it was hilarious. Of course in the end, JT and Mila ended up together in a very ironic fairytale type of way.

In a perfect world....

wish we could switch up the roles and i could be that...

Easily the coolest girl in the room at any given time. I can never get enough of Zoe Kravitz.  Her style is amazing and her music aint so bad either :)

Left Side Drive

Marie Claire Italia

LEFT SIDE DRIVE by solange-knowles

Am i everything u always wanted?

Solange has been one of my faves since we were 16.  I somehow felt we were connected and I have followed her career and style evolution ever since. Bright red Rasta braids and Lil Rapper duets to the Hadley St. Dreams and fashion 'It'' girl status, Solo has been the chick that mirrored the type of attitude and gall I've attempted to exude in my own life. 

She's always doing some dope shit. I just heard this one and wanted to share. It's a midtempo, sweet, repetitive track by this guy who calls himself Rewards (aka Aaron Phenning of Chairlift).  The song's "Equal Dreams" and its honey.  Definitely a track I want to add to the iPod playlist right now.

Equal Dreams (Feat. Solange Knowles) by DFA Records

What kind of fuckery is this?

Can't believe you played me out like this....

I know most normal people couldn't give a singular fuck less about  the death of a notorious drug using celebrity but hey, I've never been normal. This shit actually hurt my feelings.  Yes, I am hormonal and may need to consider switching birth control but I almost want to cry. I LOVES Amy Winehouse. I do. NOT. give a damn.com

Her music came into my life during a time of happiness.  I had just got my first apartment in downtown Atlanta and was getting my first taste of adulthood and independence. I used to put her CD's in (this was the time before laptops and iPhones appeared in my life) and be in my own world sketching, reading, writing and reflecting. 

Back to Black and Frank are two of my favorite albums ever. They hold me down. I always thought she'd get back in the game and come through.... for me.  I needed her. Here I am in NYC alone with all of these new experiences and obstacles and great times and shitty times and I really wanted some new Winehouse to be apart of this part of the soundtrack to my life.

Funny how people will put you on a pedestal and celebrate you but when you fall from grace they throw you away.  That's what this tragedy makes me think of.  Such a blood sucking society we live in. Perfection is a trait that has yet to be found in any human being to date. And you can't just throw a couple dollars and a rehab clinic at a problem and expect it to go away. It makes me sick that so many people assume that she was rich and because she had all of these resources she should have been able to kick her habit. I don't claim to know much about drug addiction but I'm pretty sure that sometime its deeper than the pure enjoyment of using. From her music you can tell there was more to her than that.

Fuck it, this aint for the haters.  Its for the lovers.

I fucks with Amy Winehouse, hard body.  I associate her and her music with nothing but positiviity. That's my bitch and I will love and cherish the talents she shared with me forever and always.

A few of my favorites:

Back to Black



Me and Mr.Jones



You Know That I'm No Good



Love is a Losing Game



You Sent Me Flying



Take the Box



In My Bed



Just Friends

Fuck Me Pumps

Wake Up Alone



Help Yourself

RIP Amy

"We take it from the bottom to the top baby..."

"Remember those days when I went to bed hungry/All I ever ate was white rice and honey/Big dreams in my head empty my tummy/Might crack a smile but ain't nothin funny"

These past three weeks have been a journey. This isn't a sad, woe-is-me story, firstly. Everytime I think I've been taken to the edge or as if I can't possibly handle a certain situation I am proven horribly wrong. Thank God. I am learning the amazing things I'm capable of. Im learning and extending the limits of my personal strength.

And I know I'm not the only one. Sometimes shit just gets soooo fucking hard and we think that if one more thing goes wrong we are going to just roll over and die.

And then it happens, of course, and we put on our big girl panties and keep it pimpin.

That's life.

Never thought I would be able to make rent for an entire year in nyc working bullshit retail jobs. Never thought I'd be going to bed both hungry as hell and happy as shit so often. Never thought I'd have the confidence to make my career aspirations an actual plan of action. On a smaller, simpler scale, I never thought I'd be fearless enough to just be me unapologetically... hardcore... true shit (I mean, duh, everyone claims to be themselves but we all know the deal).

Lo and behold, all of these things have manifested. I could've bitched up and went back to Detroit the first time shit got real. But I didn't. And I guess thats a testament to my childhood maybe? I grew up in an environment that demanded strength. I'm not trying to make it sound like I grew up in the projects with dopefiend parents or something but the city (ANY urban city) pushes you to be strong. Only the strong survive. I think its in the water or something.
 
Whatever it is, I'm just happy I got it.

Fuck it I'm on one...

 

"...but you’re the only one, cause I don’t trust these bitches

I don’t, I don’t trust these bitches

They might catch me slippin’

So you’re the only one, cause I don’t trust these bitches

...I can tell, I can tell, I can tell certain people don’t like me no more
New shit don’t excite me no more
Guess they don’t really make ‘em like me no more
You can look me in my eyes and see I aint myself
Cause if yall what I created than I hate myself"


 
That's exactly how I'm feeling right now.

New York,... I can't.

These people are unfuckingbelieveable.

Actually, they are totally believeable, stereotypical, simple minded and expected. I came here with the mentality that people would try to metaphorically fuck and suck me dry of anything I had that they could benefit from and whaddyaknow....

I guess being 'real' is just cool in conversation but in practice, don't nobody really do that shit no more. Like, it's too much to ask of a person to be upfront and honest. Fuck you scared of? People been calling me a lil beasty lately but really I wouldn't hurt a fly so I know you're not afraid of lil 'ol me. Like, did you just read some 48 Laws of Power chapters and all of a sudden wanna practice being a master of manipulation or something?  Well, I did to. Difference is, I read it (not the whole shit lol) to better prepare myself for fuckwads I may encounter in my life that got the impression that I'm a complete retard because I'm from Detroit and apparently Detroit isn't one of the largest urban metropolis in the country or something. Like folks in Detroit are still picking cotton and haven't got hip to shit that's going on in the Rotten Apple. I'm buggin, I know. Blame it on the hormones. Or whatever makes its sound like I'm not about go on a rampage.

 

Which I inevitably am.
 

You ever watched someone try to play you right in front of your face? I'm talking on some this muhfucka can't be for real type shit? Like, wow, I wonder what you would do if I really just put you on blast right now? Wonder what your face would look like lol. But no, thats the easy route. I actually take quite the pleasure in knowing when I'm being underestimated and preyed upon. I know that sounds sinister and I don't mean that in a negative way. Being aware of someone's ill intention is empowering.

 

New York is doing something to me. I can't decide whether I like it or not but I'm almost certain that its for the better good.  I pray so much for God to turn me into the woman I believe He wants me to be and this is probably apart of the process so I need to stop complaining I guess.  But this is my blog and I'll cry if I want to.  I just love getting this stuff off my chest. Once I get it out, I'm done with it.

 

Free therapy.

 

Drake is like my best friend right now. He gets it.  So in the age old debate I always have going with myself about whether I should continue to be my natural non-trusting self or attempt to let people in and experience greatness in being human I think I've decided to just do what comes naturally. I have enough friends. I'm blessed beyond belief to have such genuine people in my life (shout out to everywhere BUT NY for producing authenic folks).  They keep me sane when they actually answer the phone ;)

 

 

This post, for once, is NOT about a boy :)

 

 

 

(NY, u know u still my boo)

Boys.Boys.Boys

I have come to realize that as a young woman, boys will always be up for discussion. Boring, yes. Cliché, totally. *Kanye shrug* What can you do? I have only recently entered the arena of boycraziness but I have had an earful of stories being poured into my head since puberty. Apparently, in adulthood it doesn’t change much either. I feel like I’m watching a soap opera with behind-the-scenes access or something. All kinds of drama unfolding right before my very eyes.

I’d really like to remember these stories for 1) times when I find myself in the same predicament and most importantly 2) when I get old as shit and my kids/grandkids think I’ve been living under a rock my whole life and ‘don’t understand’ what they’re talking about. Hence, I immortalize my stories here. And hopefully the internet won’t become obsolete like books are on their way of becoming.

SooOOooo, where should I begin?

Let’s start with Julia* and Anthony*.

Julia is one of those girls that doesn’t have a problem getting guys. She’s cute, charismatic and confident. Or at least that’s what she leads people to believe. Anthony is cool. Not I’m -too-sexy-for-my-shirt type cool, but just cool. Unexpectedly, they found themselves enamored with one another. Kinda. See, Anthony’s telling an entirely different story to those around him. According to him, he’s just trying to fuck. No interest in this girl at all other than to do her. Maybe someone told him about her rumored whorish behavior. Maybe he’s fronting for the cameras so that his boys won’t think he’s trying to turn a hoe into a housewife (assuming the rumors are true). Idk. Point is, it’s fucked up.

Here’s my unsolicited take on it:

If this girl is perceived to be easy, why go through to the extreme of convincing her that you actually may want to have something more than a fwb situation? Why not just hit it and quit it? Is that boring? Or are you playing nice in hopes of being able to continuously hit it until you get tired of it? And if it’s a situation where you really DO like her, why talk shit and contribute to the idea that she’s a smut? What are you, 15? Are you scared of what the boys are going to think of you wife’ing the chick who smashed the homies? For the girl, why front like you don’t love having sex? If you get around, you get around. It’s 2011. Own that shit and get over it. Or stop doing it. Pick a side, stay there and stop lying. If the rumors are completely false, you need to hire a PR person and clean up your image asap.

Moving On.

Kim* and Bruce*.

Kim is that girl that no one really gets. I guess I should say rarely gets. Bruce gets her. And Bruce wants to get her (hint,hint). Bruce is as close to a goody goody as we can get. He’s actually really good for Kim. Kim, of course, doesn’t want Bruce. Yet. Classic women-say-they-want-a-good-man-but-when-they-meet-one-they-don’t-want-him shit.

My take:

I get it. You don’t take just anything that falls into your lap. But sometimes, you kinda have to get over yourself and just give someone a fucking chance. Nothings ever going to be exactly as you imagined it to be. That’s reality. Kim is making us (re: me) look bad with this stereotypical shit. I’m making this my personal mission to guide her towards the light. Stay tuned for the wedding e-vite.

Next.

Diana* and Man*.

I don’t know Diana that well. I know more of her. I know she’s not yet legal, a party girl and a kooky heartbreaker. Man is classic New York: sex, drugs and music. ‘Classic’ may not have been the best way to describe him. Anyways, Diana has boys practically falling out of her panties. They’re all over her. I’m pretty sure she’s just enjoying her life and I can imagine it must be quite fun to leave boys foaming at the mouth. Man is exactly the same. But you can sense that he wants more of her. And she ain’t having that shit. Not much of a story here, now that I’ve written about a hundred words or so I think it’s obvious that he’s finally met his female counterpart which is why he’s acting as if his head fell off.

My take:

I think this is what they mean when they say, “Every dog has his day”?…Maybe not. Maybe Man just needs to keep it moving.

Well, thats all for now but I still have mad stories left.

Certainly won’t be telling them all in this one post. Perhaps this is a lil Carrie Bradshaw kicking in. Maybe I’ll make a series of weekly posts to clear out my mental memory bank of the stories I hear on a daily.

Yeah, right.

Maybe I just need to get some business of my own to write about…

Well….

*little voice in the back of my head is telling me this is a bad idea*

Fuck it.

I’ma boss.

So.

That kid. The one I have had the ill tunnel-vision crush on for centuries? Well, he’s still around. And by around, I mean he’s still alive. I still don’t interact with the bitch. In fact, I think I want to fight him for being such a fucking idiot. I would sooner die than have him know, even in the least bit, that I’m crushing hardcore. Ugh, I think I’ve got his number. Not number as in Lady Gaga “Hello, hello baby, you called, I can’t hear a thing”, but old-school speak for “Oh, I see how you get down, motherfucker”. Speaking of which, I would love to reenact that scene from that video where Beyonce pois- nevermind. He’s such a bird!!!!! OMG OMG OMG!!!! This is so gay (shout out to the NYC gays who just got legalized. American Apparel needs to give them a new tee slogan). I feel like one of these days I’m going to randomly slap the shit out of him (despite the fact that he definitely looks like the type to slap the shit right back out of me). Maybe its just pure unadulterated sexual tension. Maybe he’s just a fucking asshole. Maybe I just need to get some Prozac.






Beyonce’s song keeps playing in my head. And in my iPod. Anthem music.







Real shit from a real bitch.

With your feet in the air, your head on the ground...

Once again I’ve gone AWOL from my blog. My bad. I’ve been doing some living. And thinking. And trying.


But now I’m back, at least for the moment.

Instead of writing an essay of specific details concerning my whereabouts, I’ll CliffNotes this shit in bullets like a real boss should.

• Got an internship with a men’s fashion company as a blogger. I’ll know how good or bad I did on the 30 day gig I did in the days to come.

• Restarted a Sex and the City marathon to rekindle my relationship with my moody boyfriend New York.

• Got another regular writing gig for fashion blog, UrbFash.com. Got to interview a few awesome mofo’s and write some cool shit.






model Messiah Ross and Stylist/Designer Sigourney Salley





• Started Tumblr’in obsessively (andritarenee.tumblr.com)

• Attempted to ‘Tweet’ from my 3yr old Twitter account (@pistolsnpetals)

• Been helping another aspiring designer get her project off the ground



• Became possessed by the spirit of Sasha Fierce at this obscure club in Chinatown called Happy Ending. As luck would have it, I ran into a few folk from my regular gig as a retail employee who got the pleasure of being entertained by me in my drunken glory.



• Did a photoshoot for cutie pie designer Melis xKeo




• Been bar hopping through the LES like I’m cool or something.

• Cleaned my apartment and cooked for a few unexpecting souls

• Decided to start a band with another person who doesn’t sing, dance or play an instrument either. Enter the Virgin Suicides.

• Got chased up a street in Little Italy by a cat rat.

• Discovered the music of Placebo





• Been wearing my hair natural. Kinda. For like two days.



That is all folks.

"They don’t want my love, they just want my potential"

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