Friday, 31 October 2014

And tonight Matthew, I'm going to be...

October has flown by and the holiday that everyone (read: American's) loves is here! Happy freaking Halloween peoples. I hope all of you crazy spook catchers enjoy whatever kicks and thrills you may be seeking tonight! I will be rocking a more moody, homicidal teenage look otherwise known as Wednesday Addams. 

About to pop my wig on shortly so will be recapping the events of this insane month for you tomorrow. 

Love x

Wednesday, 22 October 2014

The internet made me stupid

Forgive the ranting tone, or if a rant is not what you're after on this fairly warm October evening, then perhaps do not read any further. I was doing usual blog browse this morning when I came across the most pointless piece of 'journalism' from what used to be a cultural documenting voice, namely i-D. Let it be known, that since being taken over by Vice, i-D's digital quest to be a modern voice of modern times in an instant fashion has resulted in a pimp slap by the corporation. Why the negativity you ask? Well, basically because as I scrolled through my Facebook feed in between peoples 'I just got engaged' posts and 'My kid's school uniform two months on' post's, I came across something that stunned me during morning coffee time.

Brace yourself for breaking news, the link that read 'the sweetest couples from the city that never sleeps' stopped me dead in my tracks. The lengthy piece featured seven couples from NYC that when asked, 'What do you love about New York?' said stupid shit like: 'Everything but the people'. I'M SORRY BUT WHAT WAS THAT MATE? You hate the people in New York, well thanks for sharing your emo-inspired opinion said no one ever. I'm sure everyone definitely believes that you are part of a 'sweet' couple. As if the Internet doesn't constantly remind impressionable people of all ages - who spend an incredible amount of time behind their screen - why they are not in the cool gang or pretty enough for a million Instagram likes, did we really need another piece to show the singletons out there that unless you were joined to the hip with a hipster that hates everything, you are not deemed cool by current social standards? Fuck outta here. Who on this beautiful earth paid this person to be god for the day and select these 14 peoples out of the million's that take up one of the world's most populated cities?

The worst thing is about it, was that it wasn't the kind of couple documentation that say for instance a brand like The Kooples executes, and even though to some degree that can be a bit blah, it is at least part of a tasteful brand campaign - am I right or am I right? This is not about hating couples, nor is this about being negative. I am simply reinforcing the fact that the Internet has made me and I'm sure many others rather stupid and numb to this shit. I just wish i-D was still as opposed to being a prettier version of Vice because now it's all I can think about. It left me no choice than to give you an example of a real sweet couple; enjoy the molang cuties above.

Peace & Love

Oscar and that pink dress

I'm not really one for writing about things that happen in the news purely because I don't like to regurgitate information that I feel other credible sources have already done justice. But in the event of Oscar de la Renta's passing yesterday, I felt the need to offer up my two cents. Although my individual style may not exactly fall in line with the Dominican designer's lavish offerings, his works of art reached out to me for two reasons: the first being that I am girl and the second that I am a hopeless romantic.

So there it goes, like many other females out there who were/are still Sex and the City obsessives, you will clearly remember the pink dress that Carrie wore with her Russian lover during season 6. It was a cold winter's day in New York when she pointed out to Petrovsky this particular dress in Vogue and it was a cold winter's evening when the Russian gave her the same dress as a gift which later saw the inside of a McDonald's as opposed to an Opera. Note, I would wear this dress to McD's too and grab a strawberry milkshake to match. This pink dress in particular  - a Spring 04' runway spectacle - made such an impression on me that I still dream of the days when I will go on a date wearing something very similar. I remember actually finding something sort of similar by RED Valentino last season and never purchased; as the saying goes, 'all dressed up and nowhere to go'. Prince C, where you at?

Nevertheless, Oscar de la Renta made his mark on my life with that pink dress. Sparked from a TV series that ended a decade ago, it's nice to know that although things change, memories don't fade. And with that in my mind, I'm pretty sure everyone in the fashion world will always cherish their own piece of Oscar. Mine forever lives on in my 'romance' folder on my desktop, a fashion moment I am truly grateful for.

Sunday, 19 October 2014

Return to work, BYOB sushi and Man-ifestation

It's been around five weeks since I broke my mundane routine of getting up at 6am to wash my hair and feebly attempt fifty or so squats in order to get that hip-hop-honey-butt I always wanted. Five whole weeks. This routine would take place five days a week and involved a full-time job and a lot of life planning (read: wine drinking) during the remaining hours in the day. It's amazing just how quickly you can adjust when the biggest part of your routine i.e. a job, disappears.

So there we have it, this week's theme was definitely about factoring work into my life once again. Following an interview with an amazing menswear PR agency, in between their decision-making process of deciding whether they wanted someone like me around, I got a cheeky three day freelance gig at the Docker's showroom in Midtown. There is nothing weirder than going back to work after five weeks of what has been a very productive nevertheless boho lifestyle. Let's re-wind to last weekend because you know a girl likes to keep it chronological. I had picked up my pimp phone and called my gay husband who needless to say if you checked my instagram is a heavenly god sent to me from Puerto Rico. Due to lack of male species in my dating life (read: meeting losers only), I asked GBF if he fancied being the ultimate tourist with me and taking a romantic Saturday night stroll over Brooklyn bridge - of course he said yes. So that's we what did, as day turned to night we crossed arm-in-arm over one of the city's iconic bridges and took a shit load of selfies until we got to the other side. It was also the night I lost my Applebees virginity which some of you may frown upon; just know that I was born and raised in Slough so I still have strong ties to things like Harvester making Applebees feel like home. GBF also introduced me to Lolawolf and I am now obsessed with Zoe Kravitz.

Another sunny Sunday in the city only meant one thing: brunch at Cafe Orlin in East Village. I'm not joking, I have now been there four times and repeatedly order Eggs Norwegian with OJ and a skinny cappuccino. I think it's set to become a tradition that I will perhaps carry onto into my old age ya know, to the point where I will walk in and they'll know what I want - i'm a sucker for that cute shit. Realising that the world was my oyster, I ventured uptown to The Met - not only because I wanted to pretend to be Blair Waldorf and sit on the tourist crowded Met steps - but because I need some inspiration to write. There's something quite exciting about viewing art when you know nothing about it and in turn getting an idea for a story. So in I waltzed, paying a mere $5 because legend has it you actually can pay what you want at these museums so no need to abide by the RRP of $25! What a rip off. After checking out the Kimono exhibit and gaining a million new ideas of things I could write about such as feminism and dress before post-modernism, I headed up to the roof deck and attempted to Skype my entire family to show them the breath taking view. If you haven't been up there, I suggest it's something you do in the next two weeks ok?

As the new week set in I carried on looking for the next big thing. Did you know that looking for a full-time job is like a full-time job in itself? Well it is. I get up super early and spend all day waiting for a Wall Street banker to pick me up and tell me that he want's to look after me for forever. Kidding. I do however, spent most days on my laptop putting myself out there in the world. Quick side note: if a company doesn't want you, why does it take them 10 weeks to send you an email to say 'No, we're just not that into you...' - I won't name and shame said company just yet, am saving that for a huge news story which I am hoping will break my journalistic career. After a long day of hunting like an Alpha male for food, I made a British rookie error and went out on a Monday night. FML. Throwing on some heels and my face, I headed to The Standard for a quick night cap while some fellow Brits were in town. Like I said, rookie mistake. One thing led to another and the next thing I know it's 4am and i'm at The Dream hotel looking like a groupie on some promoter's table. Do not judge me. I repeat, do not judge me. I'm a sucker for some good music and a mesmerising view. Waking up with a migraine on what was set to be a busy Tuesday was a self-inflicted pain in my ass. Here's what Tuesday was meant to look like:
10am meeting with recruitment agency
1pm meeting with major NY publication for pitching sesh
3pm first freelance shift at Dockers

Here's what Tuesday actually looked like:
10am meeting with recruitment agency where I happened to showcase that I have a case of turrets
11am popped to the KITH store for a news feature. I can't explain how amazing this place is so will be writing a new post on it alone; a true jizz moment.
1pm meeting with major NY publication for pitching sesh   rescheduled to tomorrow. Sat in McDonald's eating a cheeseburger meal thinking about the world whilst using free Wifi.
3pm first freelance shift at Dockers spent listening to Frank Ocean as I prepared the Spring collection

After some well-needed sleep, Wednesday started off a whole lot better with a very promising interview under my wing and a productive day at 'work'. I also walked past the New York Times building and came up with ways to tie my self to the front door until someone hired me. If someone from the NY Times actually reads this, please know that I would sell my soul to work for you. Feel somewhat over excited about this overly productive day, I called up my soul sister and suggested byob sushi which was an incredible idea, until I got a tad intoxicated after half a bottle. Will I ever learn? Also isn't byob a genius idea? There's nothing more orgasmic than taking your vino of choice and combining it with some sexy sushi. I definitely think so. I know that there's a lot of this shizzle happening at home in Brixton right now and I am really all for it. Hop, skip and jump a few hours later and I found myself at what was a very American bar with IT. I can't disclose any more information about IT because I have been sworn to secrecy but just know that as soon as I can come up with an analogy to explain who IT is, I will - we will come back to this.

For most of those who know me, will know that my biggest skill is being able to talk to people absolutely anywhere. This was reaffirmed on Thursday morning when I met two hot chicks who helped me figure out the 2 train - what babes - I knew the time had come to venture out into my own business and set up like subway sessions or something. I feel a Kickstarter project coming on. Two new friends later, (who by the way grew up in Croydon small world I tell you), I headed to work for a final day. I think a three day week is the way forward if you ask me.

As the week came to a close and I pimped myself out to many more corporations and also turned down a job. Sometimes you're just not sure right? I was offered a position at the front desk of the Soho Grand which would have made an amazing blog, cue: Guest's of the Grand - genius I know but I just wasn't ready to commit to forty hours a week when I really want to allow myself the time to find something I really want. Didn't stop me from telling SG just how much I would quite like to be a part of their marketing team so keep your fingers crossed people; sometimes you just have to get your balls and put them out there and that's what this whole move was about anyways.

By the time Friday night rolled around, I went to meet a hot doll for dinner on the Upper West Side and discuss my newly diagnosed illness of man-ifestation. This is a disease which I am sure a lot of other women are also prone to whereby they make up relationships with guys they are dating that aren't in fact real. This is another one of those situation's that requires a separate blog post so keep your eyes peeled. I then ventured to Brooklyn for a birthday and i'm pretty sure you can guess how that ended. Yesterday was spent the only way a Saturday should be spent and that was by eating a cheeseburger, buying necessary pieces from my new haven In God We Trust, making friends in Opening Ceremony and drinking champs in Louis Vuitton as soul sister perused her new purchase. Oh, and I rounded off the day by getting ma nails did at a local spot where my girl 'G' as I like to call her, hooked me UP! Talons on point right now, no pun intended.

About 1am this morning, a few dolls and I ventured to see the Jeff Koons exhibition at The Whitney which was running all night for the final 36 hours. It was like in Sex and the City when Carrie goes on that date with Petrovsky to see an exhibition cept there was no Petrovsky and a lot of drunkards who decided to make the exhibit an after party. Either way, where else in the world can you make this happen right? No where but NYC I tell you.

So the time has come for me to wash my hair in prep for reggae night tonight. Yea you heard me! Here's a little something to get you in the mood. Have a banging Sunday evening wherever you are. I realise these posts are becoming a tad long so will have to start putting shizzle up more frequently. Bare with my while I get my life together.

Peace & Love x

ps. Check out my new blog about ceilings: Above yo head

Friday, 10 October 2014

The guy at the art store acknowledged me as a writer

Yesterday afternoon my doll (who is hosting me on her couch for these crucial few weeks to whom I owe everything) & I ventured down to the local deli on our self-sufficient block for some lunch. After grabbing a turkey, brie and avocado baguette with a healthy side of mac n cheese (!), cue excess weight gain, she told me she need to nip to the art store across the street. She didn't actually say nip, because she's American and would never use such a word but you get the general gist here. I decided to accompany her on her little visit and this is where it all went horribly wrong.

It wasn't so long ago during my Harvey Nichols days that I had to ask Paperchase to ban me from their store. The truth is, I am a fucking stationary addict and I am also not ashamed but still, I shouldn't be allowed into any store where pretty little decorated notebooks are stacked next too useless pretty post-it notes and sexy precision pens. Thus, my ignorant self stepped into Blick on Bond St and shit really hit the fan. Better than Gossip Girl's radar, my eye instantly spotted the sexiest black notepad emblazoned with a gold perforated font that read: Fucking Brilliant. Like most people feel about Ryan Gosling, I knew I had to have it. I mean it's not like I don't have any notebooks but there was no way I could walk away with out this bad boy, and the sales assistant thought so too. He caught me hovering over said book biting my nails and just as the snake forced Eve to eat that apple, 'you should just get it', he said without any hesitation. I was screwed. I mean having worked in retail for a great deal of time myself I knew what was next - the dreaded link sale. A mere twenty minutes later I left the store with two new notepads, a pen and an invitation to my sales assistant's next poetry reading and a coffee date. It happened so quick I can hardly remember but I asked them nicely to never let me in there again. Before I left however, my sales guy whose name is Bonafide (no joke, as his name badge told me) encouraged me to keep writing. It was a truly beautiful moment.

Fast forward, it's now a slightly sunny Friday afternoon in the concrete jungle and as I finally get the opportunity to write this post, whilst staring at a near distant Williamsburg bridge from my window, it comes to my attention just how weird and wonderful another week here has been. I mean let's be honest, amidst all the madness over the past seven days - Drake watching British programme, Top Boy and Iris Apfel being featured by & Other Stories for a styling series - shit has been a little stir crazy. I almost felt at certain points that I could carry on living this bohemian, creative lifestyle forever and then I checked my bank balance. I'm not Hemingway basically so mama needs a job.

In the middle of all of this weird and wonderfulness, I have just been another person in the city, striving for success and other stuff. I hop on the subway, I meet peeps for coffee, I talk to strangers - pretty much as I would do at home, except they are a bit more welcoming with my 'posh' accent and all. I also have to mention that there are so many added benefits to being over the pond. You can literally get anything you want at any hour - read that as you will - as my late night venture in FedEx also proved the other evening. I don't recall being able to print CV's in London anywhere at 10.30pm. It's the little things right? Talking about little things, I need to tell you how effing awesome it is that I can now stream HOT97 at my own leisure. No, you can't do this England and so there you have it, if that's not a reason to be living stateside then I am not sure what is. S/O to my man Funkmaster Flex - even though he will never know my name.

Anywhoo, I celebrated a productive last week by heading out to meatpacking with the girl dolls on Friday night and busting a groove, which spilled into my Saturday following a boozy brunch and a sort of frat party with Jersey dudes that I'm sure none of you really want to know about. As if I couldn't get anymore cheese on toast than I already am, another Sunday brunch was followed by an afternoon in Central Park where I'm sure I did the whole moody/reflective tourist thing really well. Girl dates really are the best. Monday was a truly special day (sounds like a Craig David song I know) as I kickstarted the afternoon by meeting with the mother of an amazing friend of mine - I guess you don't realise you need a dose of Indian/British-ness till you get it - thanks Sim! The special day continued with the added surprise of getting an American number. That's right folks, my boy Jay from over the bridge hooked me up with my first ever pimp phone. I feel like a super rap star with two phones combined with Soulja Boy's 'Kiss me thru the phone' as I recited my number to practically anyone and everyone that would take. I stayed on this high for quite some time and even bagged myself a J.O.B at the Nugget Spot on 14th Street. Don't be mad when i'm getting chicken nuggets for free! I did decide however, to wait for something a little more career focused even though I liked the sound of being a copywriter-turned-chicken-nugget-girl. That was also the day that Bunny & I went to buy a homeless man a sleeping bag but he had gone; sad face.

The rest of the week continued in similar Craig David 'Seven days' style as I bounced between interviews, cute bars (Cienfuegos) and even cuter coffee shops whilst getting sexy emails in my inbox from company directors. A highlight was definitely venturing over to International Playground on Broome St on Tuesday evening for the 10th Issue launch of Lutefisk magazine, created by a friend of a friend if you get my drift. It had been so long since I'd been to one of these events where no-one really networks with no-one other than the people in their cliques; thank sweet baby Jesus that I had my soul sister Bunny there with me as we downed a beautifully disgusting concoction of tequila and grapefruit juice. Jokes aside, check the magazine out, it even inspired me to bring this back with a facelift: Undone relaunches as PANTS Issue 0 - watch this space. (This paragraph is sponsored by all my amazingly talented friends, so do take the time to click the links please).

Wow it really has been a long seven days and if I didn't write it down I guess it could be seen as one big blur of BLAH. Thursday ended with a double coffee drink date with an amazing entrepreneur and a sexy buyer who I know from home. As I finished the last drop of my Cosmopolitan at The New York Palace last night (who the fuck do I think I am?) I did a quick meditation and praised the lord for all these blessings. I also think I got a little better at Skyping the family this week so there you have it. Right, i'm out of breath, so i'm gonna head to OAK and dress like a mini A$AP Rocky ready for a socially engaged weekend.

PEACE & LOVE and thanks for reading this if you made it to the end.


Thursday, 9 October 2014

Casual in NYC: Top 10 things a brit should know

Are you a brit-doll living in NYC? Well hopefully these tips will help you. If not, read for the lols anyway: 

1. New Yorker's LOVE a British accent so use it your advantage.
2. Dress down, otherwise you look like a try hard jersey person who lives for the weekend.
3. Never date a musician or anyone in hospitality (incl. but not limited to rappers, MC's, clothing designers or bartenders). NB: The reason is simple, they think they can claim you as a friend with benefits very quickly *rolls eyes*
4. Chips mean crisps. So chips are french fries, get it? 
5. When New Yorker's attempt a British accent, it will sound like a poor Aussie from Bondi beach or something.
6. There are Express trains and Local trains. Be sure to figure this out before you ride the subway. 
7. Food portions are huge; girls can get away with sharing and still have leftovers for a few days. 
8. According to New Yorker's, London is the best thing EVER! Even though the tube closes at 12.30am as do most of the bars and just about everything else. 
9. Ever heard of a thing called free pour? Just remember you are no longer in a Liquid somewhere drinking a watered down Glenn's and cola. Also, Margarita's will screw you. 
10. Buy a decent pair of black, heeled ankle boots. They will see you through season's to come. 

Friday, 3 October 2014

I danced with the devil and forgot how to write

Every Tom, Dick and Harry has told me that NYC is a city that never sleeps and although I used to nod my head and agree, I didn't realise how true to life this statement really was. Put it is this way, it's like the city is forever high, and as day turns to night, New York continues to pop one ecstasy pill after another - you can tell that I know nothing about drugs right?

For as long as I can remember i've had commitment issues. I'm not talking about being able to keep a boyfriend or anything, but the kind that prevent me from actually achieving what I want to because i'm too worried to start the project if that makes sense? It's like some things are just to precious to tend to an so procrastination is a fine art that I've come to master well. When I came to NYC (a mere a ten days ago) the plan was to document everything at every moment. I wanted to able to use this website as a platform to write about the journey as it happens so i'm sorry that for the last week I have been a no show - shit just got real busy and like the city, I haven't really slept.

Jet lag nows seem like a thing of the past. Once I my mind and body finally synced like my iPhone does with iTunes, I was able to proceed with actually doing things. And let me tell you, doing things takes up a lot of time, am I right? The real issue here is that while I don't have an American number (because I don't understand how it works) being out and about all day without wifi - unless I make it out to Starbucks or McDonalds - I am uncontactable. That's just the half of it. Then there was my first weekend in the city and of course I had to christen my new home in a truly British manner and just go HAM. So I did and Friday here we are, ready to kick off another weekend.

In between job interviews, meetings, sending emails (we all know how long they take), and general wandering around, my days have been awash with making new friends, seeing old ones and eating incredible food. The past ten days have taken me to some pretty decent spots on the island. There was a cheeky pit stop in Harlem last Friday followed by a complete 'shut shit down' kinda night in Washington Heights or as my smoking hot Dominican friend calls it: DR. By the time Saturday rolled around and I cured my sangria hangover with ramen (in my eyes this beats all hangover food ever), I thought that it would be rude not to go to the 3.1 Phillip Lim sample sale; I think my Pashli needed a friend. Strolling around SoHo in what seemed to be a late September heat weave or India, I decided it would be good time to get some air and go to my favourite place in the world: The Highline. For those who don't know, some smart ass decided to revamp a broken railway line and turn it into the walk of Eden. I have said it before and I will say it again, I will be proposed to here, probably over croissants and mimosa's. There are some things in life that you are just sure of.

After a hazy night over the bridge in Brooklyn, I thought the right thing to do on Sunday would to be chill; that way I could kick start a brand new week with maximum productivity. Writing this now, I feel like I have no idea what day it even is here. For a person that struggles to accept change, I seem to have very easily slipped into this bustling city life where standing or sitting still for a minute is a rare moment. It does however help to be staying on the couch of an equally focussed creative and although I can't disclose much information right now, I can confirm that the juices are well and truly flowing. Although I have to say I feel like missed out on fashion month entirely which is making me feel a tad anxious, I NEED TO KNOW WHAT I'LL BE WEARING IN THE SPRING RIGHT NOW.

Anyway, in between all the good food, cute boys and even better wine, this week saw me take more selfies on a subway than ever before (see above) and also partake in an art installation in Bushwick. All in all, it's been pretty banging. Before I sign out, all my fine jewellery people NEED to check out Verameat right NOW. I am obsessed and am waiting for a first pay check of some sort so I can lace my outfits with gothic inspired gold and silver chains and understated rings. More is really more where good jewellery is concerned - you can thank me later.


ps. For those who are wondering what the title means, it's literally what it says on the tin.