Depending on how long you’ve been around here, you’d have noticed that things have gotten a bit lime-y. Cushnie, a Jamaican born designer, had a shade of lime/chartreuse on her SS19 catwalk and I fell in love. It was the jumpsuit, which I originally thought was a dress, on the left that stole my heart. I couldn’t figure out if it was the silhouette or the color that captivated me and I am still not sure. I was so taken that I’ve bought fabric and had my fingernails painted in shades very similar.
Last year I wrote that 2017 was a doozy. 2018 just dragged on. There were certain things that didn’t necessarily get any better but there were small wins through out the year that kept me moving.
I started this blog back in 2012 for my parents and family to keep up with my journey through architecture school. As time passed it has evolved into what it is today and at some point I realized I wanted to use it as a platform to showcase Caribbean designers. I’ve networked and created some connections that I think could benefit designers and creatives, and 2018 saw me attempting to put them to use. I tried working with a local designer to get her work into a regional magazine and it was a disaster. In the first quarter of the year I was already disenchanted with the type of customer service I got out of Guyanese and Caribbean designers that I was trying to give my money to. I was frustrated to the point of me questioning why I even thought this collaboration would be a good idea. She had a bad attitude and I felt “some type of way” introducing her to whoever would be reading the magazine if this was an inkling of how she would behave and deal with new clients. It fell through and the fashion editor suggested writing a piece about me, this blog, and the dresses I’d been making. That is actually how I scored the feature in the 2018 issue of The Moda Mag. If you haven’t read it as yet, you can check it out here.
In case you don’t know, I have a Master in Architecture (M.Arch) degree that I spent six long, sleepless years chasing. I am also the youngest of three daughters and both of my older sisters have Masters degrees as well. So, the bar was raised high before I could even start my undergrad in 2010, the same year my second sister graduated with her Masters.
Of course, during my six years worth of sleepless nights studying, there were also sleepless nights of partying. I didn’t feel like I was just going to school for the degree only, I wanted all of the college experiences. Some times I went up to 40 hours without sleep, or slept for 22 hours straight, passed up on offers of being the body for body shots (sorry, I don’t want strange men’s mouths on me), pushed myself to finish projects and present on time, aced calc, danced on tables in bars, always booked my flights home too close to finals, and occasionally operated like all my body needed was caffeine and some sort of carbs – let’s not get into how terrible my eating habits got at some points. I graduated with a 3.8-something GPA.
Social media is this really weird virtual world where people can become a whole new and completely different persona. This is something that you know if you’re a blogger because so many people preach about being “authentic” because there are so many people that aren’t.
I am so happy that platforms like Snapchat and Instagram did not exist when I was a teenager because I am pretty sure I would have had some major self esteem issues. I went through high school being reminded about how flat my chest was and safe to say it has been almost 10 years and nothing has changed. Now, imagine being an insecure 6 year old with a flat chest seeing all the likes these big bootied, big tittied girls are getting and I’m just here with my small kite frame.
To be honest, social media has its pros and cons. It has created a global connection for people who would not have been able to have any contact with each other a few decades ago. I have met many great bloggers thanks to social media, and discovered lots of artists and fashion designers thanks to Instagram. Heck, Read More
2017 was a doozy.
Every year people get on social media and go on and on about how terrible their year was and how they can’t wait on the next one. Usually, I think they’re being overly dramatic. This year, I can kind of understand why.
On Jan 1st, I had the job of my dreams that I somehow managed to score straight out of school, my family’s health was all well, and I had a boyfriend I was pretty smitten with. Somewhere in the third quarter of the previous year I slid in the DMs of a guy that I thought had a nice beard, we struck up a convo, one thing led to another and we were on a first date. For those of you that know me personally, you will know exactly who he is. He has one of the most adorable and boyish grins with a vampire bite – his canines are longer than the rest of his teeth and one of his front teeth is slightly more crooked than the other; and there’s a dimple. I was pleasantly surprised that someone that I thought was that cute, who spent time on the daily in the gym and had a body to show for it could possibly be as sweet and caring as he was. Fast forward to a week before my birthday, he called it quits for exactly the reason I did not want to get into a relationship. To say I was devastated would be an understatement.
Having cut and grown my hair out multiple times, I’ve experienced quite a few things in relation to hair and a woman’s looks that have left me feeling some type of way.
Let’s rewind almost ten years… The first time I cut my hair off I was still in high school. I went from hair that stretched down to the middle of my back to hair that I could not fit into a ponytail. I decided to grow my hair a lot longer than I usually kept it so that I could donate it to Locks of Love. It was a pretty nerve racking experience. I can remember gasping with the first scissor snip but by this time, there was no turning back. A few months later I moved to a new school and got the reassurance I needed when one of the teacher’s had peach fuzz because she was fighting cancer. All of my regret, that was mostly brought along by other people’s comments, was erased on the very first day of school.