naptime.

sleepless delirium
was dissolved
into a bathtub full
of swirling lethargy.
a crystal clear soup
of what used to be
and what is
is draining out now
at a rate i can bear.
i will cast away
the plastic, molded curtain
to stand clean and shivering.

right click happy

my room is very warm and it's making my hands feel heavy and my brain all giddy. there is no cohesion here, just my favorites from the past weeks. the rules behind fashion seasons elude me and i think i combined spring and fall with winter here and all the cities are meshed into one. so beginning:

chanel: pouty glitterati baboons in metallics
proenza schouler: sea green, purple, black and cobweb looking prints WORK especially on disheveled school girls
preen: that lavender dress kills on a tilda swinton clone. the industrial looking melted holes look gooey, which is good
lela rose: predictable cuts can be overrided by that shade of blue
marc jacobs: drop waisted, ladylike sheers and sparkles make me swoon

Hoes, Rakes, and Global Destruction+Exotic Tulle and Ruffles

charles anastase, possibly my favorite because it's both ridiculous and made with an articulate attention to texture and shape. inspiration behind the collection was the upside down climate, where fruits and flowers have replaced snow during the winter. his message was supposed to be conveyed by a "crazy gardener" type, so i can only assume that the brown splotches on the flowy blue number are supposed to be potatoes harvested from a ground covered with warm earth, instead of a natural layer of frost. the little bo peep bonnet with the sheep like ruffles could be then an english lamb venturing to the seaside for a vacation instead of being shaved for it's wool. the peach jacket at the bottom is cut perfectly and the floral strangulation device is splendid. the rest of the collection is made up of images that i know will be somersaulting in my head for hours and speak loudly and strangely on their own without my addition of a contrived exotic garden fairytale.

my depraved, deprived youth

of all the plastic baubles and useless, deranged toys that were marketed to my generation i wanted nothing more than a little beaked creature called a furby. but i was secretive in my throbbing desire complaining to my playmates that they were "dumb" and "ugly" and "stupid". my plan was to throw them off course so that when they left to go get a box of juice or something i could grab their furry monster and shove it into my back pack. i would have to disguise it as an overgrown barbie with a genetic disorder when i got home though because they were the pariah of my village. my entire lineage condemned the things and i went right along with them. but then a few years later, to my absolute confusion my parents bestowed this beauty upon my sister:

robo baby 3000. an amalgamation of bizarrely tinted metal looking plastic who had the soul of a needy, self centered brat. it was all wires and computer chips but i was convinced it was the embodiment of evil. my sister tired of it quickly, shoving it in her underwear drawer to try and silence it's mechanical cries. but i dared not say anything to my parents about the inequality that was so abound. they bought my sister this hideous and creepy "toy" because she had begged for it, despite them thinking it was "ugly" and "dumb" and "stupid". then i remembered why i couldn't say anything. i had never asked for my coveted furby but rather made fun of it and any kid who was in possession of one. they had no idea the lust and torment i had endured for the sake of that thing. the robo baby became the victim of my frustrations as i tried to snap its neck off its body and dismember its limbs. it wouldn't die though. so i threw it against the wall hoping to abuse it into submission. no luck; the beast wouldn't stop wailing for food and comfort. i think it ended up intact but in the trashcan to be whisked away to a paradisiac landfill. the problem was at four i was already exhibiting the tendencies of an elitist teenager, aligning myself with brands i deemed better than average and shunning those my peers embraced. but really, i just wanted a furby. and i wanted this rubber lifeform too:



never got that one either because i said it was "dumb" but also because it started munching on kid's hair and ripping their scalps off.

Angel Aura

rodarte fall/winter 2010

if i had been in that candle lit room, i myself may have melted into a shapeless puddle of sandalwood scented wax. the translucent leggings/pants with the floral? detailing remind me of the arm portions of our japanese exchange students kimonos. the gloves remind me of the polyester ones i would wear when i was a slobbering four year old playing dress up. like everything the mulleavy sisters do, it's a haphazard piecing together of independently beautiful fabrics to make something that is newly serene and looks like it's kept together with ribbons. the dresses look like they were carved out of clouds and sent down to earth in the form of ideas to be intercepted by the mulleavy prophets.

dreamy pt. 2

to exist in a haze, and to know you're there is so satisfying. it's like putting on a satin blind fold so that the music you're listening to sounds better because you can't see the cob web collecting more dust in the corner or the stack of magazines that needs sorting. or pinching your nose so you can't taste but only feel the grain of whatever you're chewing. admitting to being able to achieve this state of selective ignorance can be mistaken for arrogance because it is basically saying i know everything, here is what i choose not to allow to exist in my conscience at the moment. but it isn't really. it's actually admitting that all the senses and intuition and criticism can be so overwhelming because they affect so deeply they can't be allowed to storm simultaneously. and it's also not about being pedantic in thought but letting visual, auditory and the likes take over without the voice of reality gnawing out your skull. it makes my world that tiny back room in my grandma's old house with sheer white curtains that let the light in so perfectly i would just sit there by myself. it also makes for undying inspiration and a whimsical levitation of the typical. when i try to envision this haze, aside from my own favorite blurred memories, i keep coming back to photos like these. anything that is mythical, lo-fi, or makes no sense at all really. this also explains my penchant for double exposures, chiffon, lace, and telling everyone and anyone about my dreams.

Comme des Garçons, Fall 2009 RTW

paolo roversi, of course

rodarte

emauela de pala

my flower child sister

in a past life i was either a sea nymph or a member of a cult, or both.

(all other photos without credit are from weheartit, or ffffound)