Posts Tagged ‘Fashion’
I couldn’t take my eyes off Sarah Nicole Prickett’s gun. Not that one, the emblazoned Guardian Angel Clutch by Vlieger & Vandam. On her, it’s cute. She’s blonde, kind of. If I rocked it though, I’d look a straight-up dick squeezer. I’m talking hold, grab and squeeze. Rip. Off. Not a good look. But for some reason, I’m intrigued by the knife version, despite it being way more sinister. Coincidentally, while flipping through The Source’s god-awful fashion pages, I noticed an axe in the layout. It was a gift guide. Yes. I’m quite sure a boyfriend would love to know I’d given him full rights to come at me like Jack Torrance (a la Jack Nicholson in The Shining) for whatever reason he deemed suitable. If there was any reason at all. Then there’s those lipstick knives floating around classified as “a great stealthy self defense item for women.” Yeah nigga! Haven’t you heard? It’s the year of the blade? Knife-pleat skirts, ‘pocket knife’ sneakers. Violence and fashion. A re-lived trend. But not just any fashion trend, mind you.
Fashion’s always been topsy-turvy. Hypersexual one minute, ultra-feminine the next. Religiously fanatic (Jean-Paul Gauthier, Givenchy), then supremely secular (Imitation of Christ). I could never quite digest its schizophrenic nature. But this violent reference – disguised as self-defense – is a blatant oxymoron in such a fluff filled industry. Do I think it’s tacky? Not really. But I mean, if I get the clutch, which I most likely will, I just know the responses it’ll remit being worn by me: a 6Foot tall black woman known for sporting a straight face and semi-masculine stance. It’s not that I’m thinking too much about it. I know it’s just fashion. But this is, at least on me, a serious fashion statement. Imagine I pulled out my self-defense lipstick knife from my knife-print bag. I mean, holy shit! Fashion just got way too serious!
Drake with one of the original Sweater gods. Image by Getty.
We’ve all been there. I’ve had more than my fair share of ugly sweaters. Mine started with my Dad’s Bill Cosby-esque collection of patchwork knits conjoined by tacky strips of leather. My grandmother also used to knit sweaters. And a ‘family’ friend named Paula. When they gave me their oversized, totally unfashionable concoctions, I politely – with internal disgust – accepted their gifts. But you know what, when worked under my stylish staples: a classic GAP denim jacket being one, they didn’t look so bad. I did however, run out on my luck as a Shop Assistant for Canadian fashion boutique Jacob. A turn of events almost caused me to loose my job.
It was Christmas season. I was 17 and bougie (stuck up) as hell. I was a greeter. Bad enough I hated saying ‘hi’ to people who walked into the store. I was forced, literally, to wear their exclusive Christmas knit: an embarrassingly bad sweater covered in snowflakes and reindeer. I almost cried. I was defiant. My manager had to pull me aside and talk to me. Considering I can remember this, obviously it had to have scarred me. But suddenly, as of late, I find myself thinking these Christmas sweaters are cool. Could it be because of Drake?
I think not. Drake can’t rock a sweater any better than I can. And while his notoriety has made him something of a knit authority, his sweater skills don’t match that of the everyday fellas who wear the sweater with natural ‘swag’.
Bernhard Willhelm wears a knit like no one’s business. Via In the moment
So, is this really an open letter to the current Underground King? Could be. Perhaps he needs to step his sweater game up. As part of VIBE’s 20 questions, one of the questions asked if the urban(e) i.e., mundane brand COOGI would give Drake a campaign. Are you kidding me? Drake might be hood, but he’s not destitute.
So, Drake, here’s an ode to the godfathers – past and present – who wore the knitted sweater with more zeal than you. Perhaps you’ll look good enough to get snapped by a style blogger this year. And I’m leaning more towards The Sartorialist.
The model Kyle Forde courtesy of D1 Models
Good evening. I can’t front. It’s been an awfully long time. I’ve been active on Twitter. Tumblr. Facebook and whatever else is in vogue on the Internet this month. But I’ve had a bit of a block. Which tends to happen. Not sure why. Suppose it’s because I’ve been writing for a living. Literally. Clock in. Write. Clock out. Leaving room for not much else. Well, perhaps that’s false. But when you’re writing for a living, it makes writing for recreational reasons draining. But now I’m about to start writing for a living again in another way, for publications, so I may as well get this mojo back up and running. It’s been hard. I’ve dreaded it. I don’t know if I don’t like blogging. I certainly still like fashion. Love it. And I read as though I have nothing better to do (I don’t). I wax lyrical on message boards like I’m writing essays. So there’s really no excuse is there.
Lately, I’ve been bathing in buckets of male beauty. Those convincingly innocent, shallow Adonis’ to get away from the reality I dread. Normal guys. Not interested. But of course, it’s the one you’re trying to get away from that can’t get the hint. Till your forced to do and say things creating the impression that you’re an empty egg shell. But I can’t front. This is what is it.
Not like this is my mission. But what else would a Canadian come to Europe for… reality?
It’s been so long I had no idea how to begin. It has been months. Tumultuous is, for the most part, a complete understatement. I’ve hit the pits, been elevated and reached a plateau. Much prefer the latter, to be honest. At least that way, there’s a routine which brings piece of mind. Stability. And through it all – the highs, the painful and the lows – I’ve learned to be extremely grateful. Especially when being hit with riots, a financial black hole that is the UK and continuous threats of a ‘double-dip’ recession. Factors that flash back to memories of 2008 when I just about thought London was one of the worst cities in the world.
I have a good job. I work with great people. I’m in fashion. And I’ve almost taken it all for granted. I’ve had to slap myself silly. Because London is not the type of place you want as an enemy. I think I’ll be okay. But I have felt lost. You know, thoughts of wanting more which leads to feelings of emptiness. With that I learned to write down goals (not something I haven’t done many-a-times before) which filled a void. But I also had to answer some serious questions. Karrine Steffans, author of ‘Confessions of a video vixen’ said she doesn’t believe in dreams. She sets goal. That statement couldn’t be more accurate. I don’t believe in goals either. Whenever I wanted something, I always found a way to make it happen. I wanted to live in London, and I wanted to write about fashion. Well done. Pat on the back. More than a lot of people in this bloody country can say for themselves despite thousands of pounds invested in education, internships and ass-kissing. Have I done it all in stride and style? Sometimes. But I’m still hear. And the more I just do me, the more that doors open, even if only a crack.
So, I guess this means I’m back.
Here we go:
When I created Safraonfashion.com, the intent was to split my personality. I used to have a schizophrenic blog (which has since died), but that wasn’t doing me any favours. In order to get somewhere – anywhere – I had to separate the controversial, angry person, from the mainstream one that would get me work. And, in turn, it worked. Since then, I’ve eliminated the asshole altogether, and I can now say that I’m on my therapeutic path to enlightenment. It sounds corny, but it’s true. Mind you, that venter still lurks within, but as I’ve progressed, maintaining my dignity and a polished image has become a priority. Yes, it’s called growing up.
Safraonfashion.com was an exploration. It’s still apart of me. But, the thing is, I’m not a fashion person. I don’t obsess over the latest must-have item. I don’t care about fashion trends. Well, unless there’s a historical and sociological depth to them. So who am I to call my blog safra On Fashion, especially when I’ve shown a continuous preference for style?
I will be making this blog more personal. But no. You won’t be seeing my face. This is not ‘a look at me, I’m backstage at London Fashion Week‘ (yes, I’m moving back to London. Back home). Or a ‘I know how to dress’ blog. But it is a style blog. And though I’ve thought about it, I’m not going to emulate Vogue.com, or any other magazine I’ve dreamt of writing for. Will it be newsy? probably. Will it be sarcastic? Definitely. But it’s going to the next level. It’s going to show my production side, creative side, whatever side. But it’s all going to pertain to style.
Which is me. My style, is street. I’m a girl who likes menswear. I read Vogue, and i-D. I appreciate lifestyle: that means art, culture, and food. To me, fashion is ephemeral. Style is timeless. What more can I say? Most importantly, I have finally come to grips. I don’t need to be the next big thing. That’s fashion. But a matriarch – that’s style.
On another note: I’ll be honest. The reasoning behind this post was complete bullshit. It’s really called Safra On Style now, because I lost my domain name. So, I guess I’m still a bit schizo after all! (wink).
I’ve been reading quite a bit of interesting blog posts today. Yes. I’ve finally actually started reading blogs. When I initially started following blogs, I did it based on people’s opinions without really understanding the logic behind them. Needless to say, I was rather bored of blogs that consisted of pretty people taking pictures of themselves and all these unwarranted accolades. And then, it became an explosion. Post a picture of yourself wearing second-tier high-street clothing, and BOOM, you’ve got yourself about, what, 50+ comments?
When I started my blog, I had no intention of infusing myself. I’ve slaved at some of the world’s most coveted fashion outlets, and I’ve stalked the editors of my favourite fashion magazines for that freelance gig. I’ve come close, I’ve hit, and I’ve missed. A lot. So this blog, was me living a dream. And this dream, slowly, turned into an outlet that led my reality. Now, I’ve got a might long way to go. Sure, I could use some work. And yes, I’m still finding myself. But Safraonfashion.com has become an outlet that is now dear to me. I no longer use it as a means “to get that job,” but to actually build my brand. And the finished product makes me proud.
Part two. Upon taking this blog more seriously, I’ve learned the importance of creative a community. Not as some self-aggrandizing marketing machine. But actually connecting with people. Learning. Fashion blogging, the real fashion blogging, is hard work. There’s research to be done to create an interesting post. And you have to conjure up ways to be unique, which is hard enough to do as it is. But creating a community proves support. Constructive feedback, if you will. And along the way, you actually learn something about yourself.
I mean, hey, community is important to the church. And it’s no different for bloggers, right. Now, on another note, I came across a very interest post by the UK blog The Clothes Whisperer about Vogue Italia’s Editor Franca Sozziani’s rant about fashion bloggers getting frontrow. I’ve gone on Vogue.it‘s site and seen Sozziani’s admiration for blogs. I’ve seen her profile Claire Sulmers of The Fashion Bomb blog as “The Black Blog,” because of urban-based content (a categorization I’m not particularly fond of), and upon further digging, I noticed she’s even given Sulmers a job as a freelance reporter. Obviously, we can’t really blow Ms. Sozziani’s comments out of context, but she is talking about blogs writ-large. Essentially.
But I digress. This so-called backlash should be seen as a wake-up call. I am certainly thankful for it, because by making an effort to become apart of the community, I have learned to establish an actual interest in blogs. Now, I read blogs, and I know what I like. I know what I can connect with. And yes, it’s okay to admit it. I know what inspires me. And it gives me hope. While we’re not out to change the world, we can use our blogs to bring us one step – or 10 – closer to our dream. Something so damn simple.
I haven’t forgotten you. I just had to prioritize. I was out doing what it was I thought I wanted to do. Giving a lot of me into something that inevitably couldn’t reciprocate. But I’ve been pressured by my beloved friends and fans alike (don’t ask me where the fans came from), and I’ve been getting questions on where to buy some of the items I’ve talked about. I promise you, I’ll come harder than even (eeeww, no pun intended). And I won’t let any person (manager), place (circumstance), or thing (job) get in the way of this thing that’s all too real. I mean, as we all know, you are your own keeper, and what you OWN will remain even when that other shit is gone.
Admittedly, I’ve lost touch with fashion. Despite being in fashion for the last little while. I think that’s because when you’re in it from a certain perspective, you loose the passion. I haven’t lost it, by any means, but I do have to get back into the fire.
OK. So here we go.