When it comes fashion I’m a total noob. My sister is the one who can throw together a flawless outfit as if she were just scrambling an egg. Part of my struggle I suspect (or rather know for that matter!) is my 10+ years in uniformed Catholic school. While I loved the ease of which I never had to think about what I’d wear to school, when it came to college, I was hopeless. Walking the hills and valleys of my midwest university, most days I was sporting faded bootlegged Gap jeans, an ill-fitting unisex graphic T, and my favorite, worn – in pair of Adidas Sambas (now retired).

Now, however, I think I’m beginning to see the light. When I first moved to New York, I felt like every morning I was walking through one of my mother’s fashion magazines. I was impressed on how put-together New Yorkers appeared and their attention to detail was stunning. Soon I began to develop tastes of what I liked and disliked but it’s only now that I’m slowly being able to execute these visions in my head.

Curious, I struck out to Lincoln Center, DSLR and notepad in hand, wondering what fashion meant to all those involved. Despite the frigid temperatures and snow, I photographed designers, bloggers, photographers, observers, those who I thought were “pulling it off.” And however different they all appeared, their answer to my question remained constant. I asked, “What does fashion mean to you?” They replied, “Self expression.”
















Self expression is an obvious answer, is it not? How else to show our pride and true colors than through the vary extensions of ourselves: the clothes that we wear.

But I’d like to take it a step further because I know many of us open our closets every morning and ask, “Who do I want to be today?” And in that answer, I believe, fashion is also used as a mask, a shield, a ruse to disguise the whole truth and I think for me, right now, that’s what fashion is. For me, fashion is like Halloween, me deciding on a outfit I see and me trying to execute it, bringing pieces together, and thinking it my costume. On nights I go to the ballet, I pretend I’m Juliana Marguiles in my black Madewell dress, and when I go on interviews, I ask myself, “What would Miranda Priestly recommend?”

But the most important thing I’ve discovered in regards to fashion is this: it doesn’t matter what your’e wearing it’s how you’re wearing it. Confidence makes all the difference.

On another note, I was honestly surprised how nice everyone was! It probably had something to do with me actually not knowing who any of these people were!

Shout out to: Ni’ma, Mauricio, Markell, Joy, The Half Mug, My Sunday Dress, and all the others who were so pleasant and patient with my question asking and attempts at fashion photography!


Always Ask


Lately, my free time has been monopolized by helping others. Not quite in a charitable way, but when people have approached me for favors in the last few weeks I haven’t had the gumption to say no. However, that’s on me. It’s when I know someone wants my help but is too [ afraid / nervous / whatever ] to ask is what really irks me.

I’m a pretty giving person and as stated above if you’d only ask, my usual response will be yes. Do I want to lend a hand, not all the time, but I always put myself in the others’ shoes and know I would want help in most of their situations.

So with that, all I want you to do is ask. Don’t be the awkward weirdo hovering on the sidelines wonder if. Just go for it. After all, the worst anyone or myself could say is, “No.”

February at the Movies


The Academy Awards are only three weekends away and the last two movies I feel like I need to see (and want to see, which is more important really) are The Theory of Everything and Whiplash.

However, my post Award Show Season cinema plans involve a ballet documentary (422), a british film involving class, action and espionage (Kingsman), an intelligent robot (Chappie), such fun! (The Second Best Marigold Hotel), and a brooding dramedy (While We’re Young).

See you at the movies!

A Book Report


Bookwise, 2015 is off to a rough start. After pinning my wish list of books to read for the New Year, nearly 50% of them came in all at once. And who am I to wait? So I pocketed my reusable bag and trudged through the snow up to my local branch.

First in my bag:

– David and Goliath (Gladwell)

– Four Quartets (Eliot)

– Flatland (Edwards)

– Unaccustomed Earth (Lahiri)

David and Goliath proved informative, through provoking, but typical Gladwell assuming.

Four Quartets went slightly over my head – I’m more of a Dorothy Parker kind of girl when it comes to poetry – and Flatland was absolutely the worst. When I posted Flatland to Instagram I learned that a number of my friends had somehow been required to read this in middle school geometry and warned me that I’d hate it. They were right. Of all the maths in the world, geometry has always been a pain in my side.

But then Jhumpa Lahiri shined through with the first true literary gem in the new year with Unaccustomed Earth. Drinking in her prose is like swimming through cool, dark, silky waters on a warm summer’s day off the coast of Spain.

After surviving Lahiri, and returning my first four library attempts of the year, I came back to the apartment with The Bone Clocks (Mitchell), Love Me Back (Tierce), Kansas City Lightening (Crouch), The Underground Girls of Kabul (Nordberg), The Most of Nora Ephron, and Juneteenth (Ellis).

60 pages into The Bone Clocks it was time to return it and I wasn’t sad to see it go despite the excellent writing and character driven drama. Kansas City Lightening proved tedious and boring (I still need to learn about Charlie Parker though!) and Love Me Back may not be my cup of tea despite it’s literary accolades and the fact that it takes place in one of my hometowns – Dallas.

And while Underground Girls and Juneteenth still rest on my nightstand (a stool I swiped from a stoop sale this summer), Nora Ephron’s tome of life has taken my breath away only thirteen pages in.

For the sake of giddiness, I might return Ephron and purchase it outright and hop into Girls of Kabul instead.

Here’s to reading and here’s to February!