blaria-blackendorker

[blaria-blackendorker]

Feelin' vury furnky. Ow.

[blaria-blackendorker]

Worst Behavior

Heh...my last post quoted drake (from last year) and recent post quoted drake (6.12.18.)...I don’t even listen to him often. “Rememba? M*tha f*cka...”

[blaria-blackendorker]

Losing a Best Friend

It’s been about five years since we [my former best friend (?) and I] experienced “Armageddon”. Even that word in quotes is a sore subject, because I feel like only THEY would get my anecdotal references of the uber-cheesy --yet satisfying-- 1998 flick featuring my guy Bruce Willis, Billy Bob Thornton Ben Affleck, and a seemingly non-potentially incestuous Liv Tyler; they’d get the non-incestuous jab too (see the Aerosmith’s “Crazy” video if you “don’t wanna miss a thang….”). R.I.P. MC Duncan.

So who is “they”? “They” was my best friend from high school. We established our friendship in such a memorable way, to me, which is shocking since I can’t remember most of my time spent in high school. “They” is a she and we shall call her Oprah just to save me some sanity and time. Oprah was bright and loud in spirit with a strong handshake, shit, she still is. She was new, adorned in F.U.B.U., and was obviously not from around these parts. We met during summer band camp and we were two of very few black marching band members and three black flutists. She was really good at playing the flute too...amazing really. She challenged me, probably without knowing, to actually try instead of blend into nothingness and never practice. She played the piano and drums, sang, and was the bravest human I knew.

During a time when my father started to spin out-of-control, and assimilation to our predominantly Anglo and Latinx/Chicanx/Mexican-American [melodramatic-themed] school seemed too much to dive into, Oprah was there. I often felt like I was just witnessing her. She could draw, she was kind, loving, inspiring and she had a family that welcomed me. She made me laugh in a way that no one else could or ever has for that matter. We had so much fun.

After graduating, we started dating like the big kids do. The kind of dating naive 18 and 19-year-olds do. We got our hearts broken together, though we may not have noticed it at the time. I was with her for her first tattoo and she was with me through my awkward punky-goth emo phase. No one will ever understand “Charlotte Takes a Tumble” or Napoleon Dynamite the way we do. We both obtained really crappy boyfriends and simultaneously digested really great music throughout this short-lived era. Big ups to Robin Thicke, Jamie Cullum, the Neptunes, Jamiroquai, Janis Joplin and all the emo bands who have since died down--no shade.

Though I believe we only had one true argument, the one that ended things, I remember our first break: she was in an abusive relationship and it began to negatively impact her relationship with me and her parents. From my perspective, I never believed in telling someone to choose one person over another. That is what led me to live with her and her family for a short while and what then led me to leave her home. We both got new friends and meshed into new and opposing scenes, but we were still best friends. I feel like Oprah might’ve communicated to me that she felt ashamed about her choices and apologized. I feel like it was in character for me at the time to let her know “, yeah, what you did sucked and made me mad and sad, but I love you and yeah that dude is bad.” I knew I didn’t like lying to her parents when they agreed to take me in, and I was struggling with a lot of unaddressed issues myself.  

After my choice to work through my addiction, understanding my behavioral health necessities, and having a child, things weren’t the same. Now that I look back at that time in our lives, maybe Oprah just couldn’t see how she could fit in with all of my mess and drama. Did I ever stop to ask her “, how are you, friend?” The fact that I can’t remember tells me I might not have been as much of the “best friend” that I thought I was. Lord knows what I did to her or how I hurt her through my poor choices and health. I can surmise that she must have felt abused and unappreciated. I didn’t know I wasn’t a good friend, yet she persisted.

So what broke our connection? I experienced some major traumas as we continued to grow apart. Don’t get me wrong, we still hung out and had fun, but Oprah started not to answer the phone or text back. She didn’t come to my family gatherings anymore (i.e. my child’s birthday party or barbeques), and I took all of this so personally. I didn’t realize that even though I had known her for over a decade, I still didn’t know everything about her. I didn’t realize that she may have been going through something. My abandonment issues probably clouded my judgment.

I remember one night when Oprah and I went out to a club together and had a ball. And there was this guy eyeing her and they connected. She was the one who usually connected with someone when we went out. It wasn’t even a competition, it was just us having a ball from the time were old enough to legally boogie. This time was different, and I knew it. He was very good looking and they exchanged info. They took forever to say good night and I pretended not to notice them as I waited for my friend to drift over to me and gush over her potential beau. We celebrated the achievement and slept until we arose in the hangover-driven mid-morning some hours later.

That morning, while we were at a market looking for exciting ingredients for some international dish she would later whip up with ease. We started talking about here achievement from the night before. She told me how I didn’t understand what it was like to be disrespected in the way she was by the opposite sex. I couldn’t believe the horrors that such an amazing and worthwhile human being, let alone my best friend, was hurt by. I internally crumbled in the frozen food aisle, and I was so hurt that people had the putrid nerve to do her dirty IN PUBLIC like that. I didn’t know if I believed in God then, but I prayed for her to find someone that would be with and love her. I stood there in a depressive shock. I knew I was angrier than I had been in a long time and this most certainly had to be because I thought “, how dare those mitches do this to my bestie,” but also because “, what kind of friend doesn’t know?” I embedded that moment in my core, and it still hurts to reflect on; maybe there’s something to be learned there.

I think that that was the first moment in which I truly wondered if I deserved someone like her in my life, but oh, how quickly we forget to challenge the norms we’ve established. We went to her apartment and probably ate until we exploded. I think we swam and truly enjoyed what it was like to be two adult women now drankin’ wine and feelin’ fine. “I love you Jas…” She really meant it that day. From then on is a blur. Traumatic incident after incident occured in my life (no exaggeration and having nothing to do with her personally), which seems to recur at intervals, happened and I couldn’t reach her. Where was she!

It turns out, Oprah eloped. I asked her why she didn’t tell me and she told me that she didn’t tell anyone. I told her that I wasn’t “anyone” and demanded the real reason. I don’t know if she knows, but I hadn’t been much of a crier around that time and to this day. In the months of losing her, I cried the sorts of crying spells that when I think of them my head and stomach ache. I locked myself in darkness when my son was at school or visiting someone and lied in pity and self-hate. It was both ridiculous and unsafe. How was I the only victim in all of this? I wasn’t, and I know that now. Was I truly even a victim in the sense of the word?

She finally called and I demanded to know “, where the fuck were you!” I screamed about how she could’ve told me there for this or I would’ve been there for that, but even then I was being selfish. We were both quickly descending into a point of no return and unfamiliar dynamics. I told her about how I didn’t know how to respond to the looks or judgment when people asked me where she was and how she was and that I had no answer. I was always Oprah and Jas and soon found that I didn’t know what I was. I didn’t recognize myself or what was happening. She started to tell me about all the things that I had done wrong over the years, and they were indeed “bad friend deeds,” but I just couldn’t compute how or why she didn’t tell me before. She talked about how her astrological sign was a valid excuse for her disappearance and I couldn’t get any of it. I didn’t know she was hurt throughout all this time and I somehow felt deceived (or something). This call ended our friendship and the stinging parts replayed in my head for years.

It was hard breaking the news to others. I perceived that everyone who knew us both was my mirror to how apparently broken I was in the aftermath. I didn’t know how to respond and I didn’t know how to fix it. I went through treatment, I wasn’t in my toxic relationship anymore, I was back in school, I was in my own place, and I had no one--that needed more than her--to share it with. I understood more than ever that I didn’t know my best friend and she was angered by and my sucking at best friend stuff; I didn’t know how to forgive my self. I stumbled in and around that perspective for some time before I got the nerve to reach out. We tried, very few times in my opinion, to reconnect; they never felt like honest interactions with one another, and of course, things would never be the same….nothing was the same…#drizzy. You know how Facebook plays with your mind? She seemed much happier without our friendship and I wanted to respect that.

In retrospect, I was a shitty ass fucking friend for a long dumbass mother fucking time. I commend Oprah’s tolerance, love, and patience. I honestly was not aware and cheesily so, hurt people hurt people. Who knows if all of my recollections are true with respect to one perspective only being part of many truths and my poor memory that I alluded to earlier. I do remember the feelings and those are the toughest to scrub away for me. I remember the heartbreak and how I am still not fully recovered. I remember what it used to feel like with Oprah and how it feels now. I didn’t do my part, and maybe it’s like she said “, Jas, do you ever think that some people might just outgrow each other? Maybe we outgrew each other...” She said that so sincerely, and I didn’t have enough maturity or mental fortitude to hear her and not be on the automatic defense. Thank you, Oprah, for teaching me how to be a better person/friend/lover, because I sucked.

Now the real actual Oprah [Winfrey]--not the one I broke up with--has helped me navigate my accountability and health from much of this. In OW’s “What I Know for Sure” memoir, I realized how privileged I am/was in many ways and to ask myself “, what is this moment teaching me,” during difficult experiences. I learned from that book what sort of friend my Oprah deserved, what sort of daughter/sister/mother my family deserved, and it wasn’t what I gave them. Why didn’t I communicate this to my Oprah? *sigh*

What was my contribution to all of this degradation? I feel like I might’ve shed a fairly ominous light on my faults in a self-deprecating fashion, so let's try this with a lighter and more sensitive tongue. I shove my sour and scolding hot expectations down her throat while expecting her to enjoy what she was served. I didn’t ask her if she was okay or what she was going through regularly. I did not give my Oprah that space she needed in which she could trust me enough to tell me what hurt her or what she feared. I depended far too heavily on her and provided very little in return on interest.  I was defensive and immature. Due to what I perceive as my inability to remain objective, I unfairly created fallacious judgments of her character based off of my expectations. I didn’t adequately communicate my needs, nor did I attempt to hear hers. I sullied her name in my spirit so that I wouldn’t have to critique myself, subconsciously of course.  I think you’re happier now my Oprah, though I don’t know for sure, and you earned your space and love. I hope that you are surrounded by love and better friends and lovers: that’s what I wanted most from the beginning, of that I’m certain.

Through love and loss, I have learned that I have hard boundaries that are okay to have and ones that weren’t realistic or healthy. I learned that as a friend, lover, or someone who cares, I can provide the space for others to heal, be loved, or be human, but I must respect others and where they are in their journeys. I continue to experience a lot of guilt as a result of all of this, but this isn’t to say I am not in a good space. So much has happened to and within my Oprah and I in the mean and in between time, maybe we’ll reconnect FOR REAL some day. If we don’t, that’s okay too, but I should still brave up and say the things I never chose to say.

I suppose the only thing I can say now is “did I really lose her?” I guess we’ll see and keep in mind that “, nothing was the same.” Sorry, not sorry, I had to.

#breakup #oprah #drizzy #what i know for sure #nothing was the same #dear diary #blog #blacktastic #blacktasticjas #blaria blackendorker #blariablackendorker #weblackon #love #loss #rebirth #heartbreak #article #jamonit #awkwardblackgirl #gayle #relationship #drake #armegeddon #areosmith #trauma #healing #growth #thuglife #emotional intelligence

[blaria-blackendorker]

Know Yourself, Know Your Worth

It’s okay to realize that there are things you won’t tolerate and to then act accordingly: kindly escort that ish right on out.

For example, your partner continually crosses personal boundaries that you’ve set with them, or you’re unhappy working for an employer.

Know yourself, know your worth.

As a rule of thumb, I feel it’s best to speak from my own perspective given that that’s all I know. While I am an empath, I don’t want to be presumptuous. So, what examples can I offer from my own personal dealings?

I have worked hard on myself these last five years and it’s paid off! I conserve my energy a lot better and I’m much less reactionary. I am very selective about the types of energy I take in and what and who I allow to rent space in my mind; I try to remain uber cognizant of that. I’ve mastered the art of saying “no” as that has become detrimental to my becoming the best version of myself and adequately honed into my talents and desires. There’s power in a good and solid “no.”

What’s more, momma and Oprah always told me that when people show you who they are, believe them the first time. I know that I am very responsible for me, and focusing on the practice of a warrior (acting versus reacting) has instilled a great deal of accountability within me and how I operate.

I understand that the universe owes me nothing. Though I am naturally abundant in empathy, as an empath, I choose not to support others victimization of them self or disingenuous attempts at connection. I do not support loops of destructive negative while balancing that with being compassionate towards myself and others. I’ve not perfected the craft, but I’ve most certainly improved.

It’s finally fun and comfortable being me. I can look in the mirror and be proud, when I was once painfully insecure and nauseated by my own reflection. My optimism is sincerer. I’ve worked hard on myself and I’m proud.

It’s okay to know that you are powerful and great at what you do. You have something amazing to offer, or have yet to realize it, give yourself the opportunity to do so.  It's alright to know that you have access to an abundance of personal growth, potential to tap into, and so much more to learn. I believe that these mantras make you more powerful if you're proactive.  Woot woot! You got this my G!

Folks often tell me that I’m confident, and I feel like it’s a much deeper (why simultaneously simpler) concept: I like...well…love me. So much opportunity has come my way and I'm more resilient than ever. I’ve earned a place in my life that is fruitful and evidence of my awesomeness. Nowadays, I don’t crumble when things get tough; I rest, restore, and regain my strength.

The Issa Raes, Oprahs, Francheska Medinas, and Franchesca Ramseys of the world inspire me. My friend, strangers, and the skyline inspire me.Thank you, thank you, thank you. Let’s profit and blossom while we do what we love.

;D

#know yourself #know your worth #philosophy #self compassion #self care #pride #Blaria Blackendorker #curation #do you boo #truuuuue

[blaria-blackendorker]

Screw temporary happiness. I choose to be empowered by every emotion, each experience, and all that makes me, me. All the damn time. #sorrynotsorry

https://www.instagram.com/thugunicorn/

[blaria-blackendorker]

The Former and the Latter

I’m becoming more and more okay with letting go, and I have the most sincere feelings of gratitude for him.

Still, I did something that I vowed I wouldn’t do anymore: I went backwards.

We dated when we were brand-spanking new adults, and it was a tough experience. He wasn’t very kind and I wasn’t really myself. We reconnected more than once, but I had no problem cutting him off. This time, he was surely different. He was weak, vulnerable, and praised me more than I was used to.

After a group discussion of love and life, I told another friend that I had been single for over four years, and that if I am destined to be alone/single for the rest of my life, I would most certainly be comfortable with that. He cringed and told me, in the most kind way, that that’s not how love works. He advised me to, when I truly meant it, tell the universe that I was ready for love and experience it coming to fruition. I sat with these moments in reflection, and they impacted me deeply.

That ex of mine resurfaced just after I had spent a beautiful evening up North where I was close enough to kiss the Milky Way. I had never experience such a peaceful and supernatural moment of gratitude. So what did I do? Just after that one-on-one epiphanic love and life lesson with my friend, I told the universe that I was ready for “the one” who is right for me. I really did mean it.

During another trip up North, I was gifted some amazing crystals. A spiritually enlightened friend help me scry over the crystals, so that we could see which crystals were drawn to us. He noticed I seemed emotionally shaken and asked if I wanted to share. I sure in the hell did! That ex of mine, he blurted out that he loved me and I panicked. I hung up, left my cabin and sat on a bench in the middle of the evening among the still overreaching-pines. Dramatic, right? The friend offered to use his scrying deck and spiritual altar to assist, and I of course obliged. I told him I was reluctant to say “yes” to commitment. I explained previous experience with “conversing with the universe,” and he advised that the universe spoke back.

In this mystic session, I learned something that has transformed my soul: committing to my ex could be a forever thing or just a lesson of which I am in great need. My friend advised that I told the universe I was ready, and not honoring that commitment could prove troublesome, and hit me hard in the future. So, I can’t say that I jumped in, but I allowed myself to enter the pool at about 4 feet.

My ex hit me like a ton of bricks. But I offered myself in ways that I never had with anyone; it was the epitome of letting my guard down. This took a lot of pressure off of me. I felt that I deserved that much and so did he, no matter how challenging it was.

Another friend told me that we often believe that we can only leave someone if they hit us or cheat on us, but it was okay if I wanted to end things because we weren’t on the same level. I want someone to be at my level or better because I put a lot of work into myself within the past four years. I choose to evaluate whether I was actually in love with this person or attached; I think it was a mixture of both. So I ended it, lovingly. I understand that I will not sacrifice myself for a partner who means well but cannot navigate alongside me through my life. I need more, or different, and that is okay. This is not to say that he doesn’t have some wonderful qualities, or that he’s a bad person, he’s just not for me.

So what did I learn?

I learned to pick and choose my battles wisely with efficacy.

I learned how to respectfully communicate my boundaries and stick to them.

I learned how to meet someone where they’re at and to accept it.  

I learned when to conserve energy or de-escalate situations.

I learned not to be so controlling.

I learned to be me, completely.

I learned to take care of myself with great care for how I choose to do so.

I learned the art of acceptance and consciousness.

I learned that I’m no a bad person for do what I want, respectfully.

I learned to resist “always being right.”

I learned to sit with fear and work towards understanding it.

I learned to choose growth and gratitude.

I learned how to mature through patience.

I learned that I am not resentful.

I learned that as my energy grows and stays glowing, I will attract the like in others.

Besides, who said that this experience wasn’t meant to guide me to “the one”? The universe doesn’t have to limit it’s guidance to my a perceived timeline.

I’m sure I learned more, but I feel like this one is long enough.

#love #life #the universe #lesson #glowup #ex #blacktasticjas #blariablackendorker

[blaria-blackendorker]

The Big C

I feel this emptiness inside of me that is surrounded by that choking tearful emotion. I feel like I am on the outside of everything. I feel guilty that I cannot "fix" this for her. In classic nerd fashion, I googled the hell out of bone cancer. Who knew there were types? One image still gives me nightmares; it's a skull that's on display somewhere. The image makes me ill...nauseous. Crazy...I don't know.

I’m a habitual recluse when it comes to personal trauma or stressful life events. I disappear into the shadows of my peaceful purple-hued room leaving those drawn to me wondering...concerned. This time around, I told everyone: my supervisors, colleagues, friends, strangers, and acquaintances. I’m sure that sharing has helped me, but I’m still painfully anxious and a pool of hesitant tears that ebbs and flows reside somewhere in the hearts of my eyes. 

There’s a distinction to be noted between misery and pain; I’m hurt, not miserable. When I reflect on my experiences, I see the resilience earned by my mother and me, and I notice all the wonderful things that occurred while alternating with the “bad.” It’s a confusing space to be in because I feel like I’m in figurative limbo... or something like that. I don’t feel helpless or angry, rather terribly sad in a way I’ve never experienced. It’s not a hopeless or spiteful sad, but it’s painful and penetrating. 

The moment when I found out that I was the emergency contact for my mother instead of her mother, due to reasons that are too painful to describe at this time, left me most overwhelmed. 

The kids. I don’t know what to say about telling them...when we do.

We have to have the talk, mother and I. You know, the one where she tells me all the secrets and where everything is and what I must do in the event that she doesn’t make it through this. If she is unable to function. If she dies. None of this has to happen, but it could.

I thought I had someone, a lover, who could adequately love and support my heart, body, and mind through these achy moments, but that was a false alarm. I couldn’t sacrifice any more of myself or my sanity for that madness, and yet I am not cynical about the possibility of me uniting with the love that’s right for me. 

I am privileged, as is she, to have a wonderful support system...a wonderful life really. 

There’s a fog of hurt and it cloaks me. People see it, and when I witness them seeing this all transpire, I am hurt all over again. 

I am not in despair, but I’m challenged in a way that feels below the belt. Cancer makes you grow up pretty fast, doesn’t it? 

Now, we await the results. Is it in one spot or do we start chemotherapy. If it is in more than one spot, then we found out what stage we’re at. 

The pre-op and post-op rooms, the procedures, help my mom assemble a support team and her treatment schedule. I feel like I’m spinning...distant from my surroundings. 

I’m not a victim, but I need something. I don’t know what it is.

#cancer

[blaria-blackendorker]

[They told me to blog, so I’m blogging. Thank you friend.]

What if it were the other way around? The colorism, the racism, the power struggle; what if the roles of American racism were reversed?

Don’t tell me that racism doesn’t exist. Tell me that you respect my truth even though you don’t identify with it or understand it. Don’t tell me racism isn’t real, tell me that you don’t have to wake up considering how to navigate predominant cultures and microagressions; tell me that you’re not sure what to say or how to feel. Tell me that this conversation makes you nervous...uncomfortable.

Don’t tell me to get over it, tell me that you understand that it’s a habit, a culture, and you’ve got privilege that you didn’t ask for. Tell me I’m not a pet, an exception, that I’m not cool for a black girl.

Tell me that you understand that I don’t think you’re a bad person, but that we need to talk. Tell it hurts to know that racism is deeply rooted in American culture, among many others. Tell me something other than it’s not real, it doesn’t exist, or that I need to get over it.

Tell me that black beauty and pride doesn’t diminish or devalue whiteness. Tell me that you’re curious, disinterested, fearful, or confused.

...or just ask me...

[photo credit: Mic]

#racism #privilege #race #racsim

[blaria-blackendorker]

Let’s dialogue

[They told me to blog, so I’m blogging. Thank you friend.]

What if it were the other way around? The colorism, the racism, the power struggle; what if the roles of American racism were reversed?

Don’t tell me that racism doesn’t exist. Tell me that you respect my truth even though you don’t identify with it or understand it. Don’t tell me racism isn’t real, tell me that you don’t have to wake up considering how to navigate predominant cultures and microagressions; tell me that you’re not sure what to say or how to feel. Tell me that this conversation makes you nervous...uncomfortable. 

Don’t tell me to get over it, tell me that you understand that it’s a habit, a culture, and you’ve got privilege that you didn’t ask for. Tell me I’m not a pet, an exception, that I’m not cool for a black girl.

Tell me that you understand that I don’t think you’re a bad person, but that we need to talk. Tell it hurts to know that racism is deeply rooted in American culture, among many others. Tell me something other than it’s not real, it doesn’t exist, or that I need to get over it. 

Tell me that black beauty and pride doesn’t diminish or devalue whiteness. Tell me that you’re curious, disinterested, fearful, or confused. 

...or just ask me...

#racism #black #white #dialogue

[blaria-blackendorker]

Ima need someone to repeat that for the people in the back

[blaria-blackendorker]

65 Black Owned Businesses To Shop This Black Friday

Black Girl Long Hair writes:

The biggest shopping day in America, Black Friday, will be here before you know it. And with the recent surge of entrepreneurship in the black community, we think it’s important for you to consider the following list of black-owned businesses for all of your holiday shopping needs.

Find them here.

[blaria-blackendorker]

DIY Ayurvedic Conditioner For Natural Hair Growth

Adore Botanicals writes:

I enjoy making and creating products when I have free time. Ayurvedic herbs are wonderful for the hair and skin. 

“According to the University of Maryland Medical Center, Ayurveda is considered one of the oldest healing sciences that have a holistic approach to health. It is designed to help people live a long, healthy, and well-balanced life. It has been practiced in India for at least 5,000 years. It has recently become popular again in western cultures and is used to treat illnesses and maintain balance in the body, mind, and consciousness through proper eating, drinking, and lifestyle.  Our hair, which is a vital parameter of external beauty, can also benefit from Ayurvedic treatments to maintain its health and look beautiful. These time-tested herbal hair care remedies have been the backbones behind the healthy and long hair of Indian women. Whether dealing with scalp problems, nourishing the hair follicles, or trying to steer clear of sulfates, parabens, or ingredients you cannot pronounce, Ayurveda can bring health and beauty to your tresses.”

I am sharing my own recipe for a home pre-poo/conditioning treatment that encourages healthy hair growth.

Keep Reading.

[blaria-blackendorker]

verb produce and discharge (something, especially gas or radiation). "coal-fired power stations continue to emit large quantities of sulfur dioxide" synonyms: discharge, release, give out/off, pour out, send forth, throw out, void, vent, issue; More make (a sound). "she emitted a sound like laughter" synonyms: utter, voice, let out, produce, give vent to, come out with, vocalize "he emitted a loud cry" issue formally and with authority; put into circulation, especially currency.

Oh, for vintage sakes

Vintage clothing means a lot to me. It is my means of expressing myself. I am more visual than I am vocal. When I say I am visual it means I see things differently from others. I grew up believing that I needed to be a different type. A normal type is what I thought I needed to fit in, to be a productive woman of society. I began to learn, slowly but surely, that I am my own self. And I have to own myself to allow me to live a full life.  I no longer try to hide behind a facade of “normalness”, you know you can die from that.

I am at a point in my life where I feel free. That I feel I can do what I want (within reason) and in the matter than I want to. I naturally defy stereotypes and I pay no never mind to ignorance.

As humans we must wear clothing to protect ourselves from both weather and other outside elements and fashion is important to us. We love to be cute and pretty and hot and on fleek (I hope I used that in the right context). We all want to express ourselves visually and by dressing in vintage we emit our unique aura for others to see.

When we shop at the same place every other chick does, we all emit the same aura. The color of the aura is beige because it’s boring. It’s predictable.

That is why vintage clothing is important to me. It means I can create the mood in which I feel. I create the environment and set the ambiance. I want to set the tone – with my aura. And with that mission, I want Vintage Connect to erase the void that trendy fashion leaves behind for women to believe it to be the one option to find fashion and also to create a space for women to paint their auras in garments of past to give new life to them.

[blaria-blackendorker]

Perks blactasticness!

[blaria-blackendorker]

Emit honey...your most fleek vintage!

Oh, for vintage sakes

Vintage clothing means a lot to me. It is my means of expressing myself. I am more visual than I am vocal. When I say I am visual it means I see things differently from others. I grew up believing that I needed to be a different type. A normal type is what I thought I needed to fit in, to be a productive woman of society. I began to learn, slowly but surely, that I am my own self. And I have to own myself to allow me to live a full life.  I no longer try to hide behind a facade of “normalness”, you know you can die from that.

I am at a point in my life where I feel free. That I feel I can do what I want (within reason) and in the matter than I want to. I naturally defy stereotypes and I pay no never mind to ignorance.

As humans we must wear clothing to protect ourselves from both weather and other outside elements and fashion is important to us. We love to be cute and pretty and hot and on fleek (I hope I used that in the right context). We all want to express ourselves visually and by dressing in vintage we emit our unique aura for others to see.

When we shop at the same place every other chick does, we all emit the same aura. The color of the aura is beige because it’s boring. It’s predictable.

That is why vintage clothing is important to me. It means I can create the mood in which I feel. I create the environment and set the ambiance. I want to set the tone – with my aura. And with that mission, I want Vintage Connect to erase the void that trendy fashion leaves behind for women to believe it to be the one option to find fashion and also to create a space for women to paint their auras in garments of past to give new life to them.

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Oh my bosh!

To commemorate the 25th anniversary of ‘Fresh Prince of Bel-Air’, Brooklyn-based illustrator Leland Foster teamed up with fashion e-commerce site Lyst to re-imagine what the cast would look like in 2015.

Will - Carlton - Ashley  - Phil  - Geoffrey - Hilary

“The Fresh Prince of Bel Air was so stylish, and so of-its-time as a classic 90s show,” said Foster. “The challenge was to make the Banks family relevant and recognisable, while keeping all the energy of these six very different personalities.”