feeling like a crumb cake. velutinous limbs like sugar intimate to spoiling. those bits that even mouse whiskers hover and hesitate. a flustered frenzy of sandy toes across floorboards. settle in the ridges of maple. waves of soapy hiccups. buttered sweet corn in my smile. glaciate my head with numbing fireflies. suffuse their rippling wings to my skull. stolen dopamine. a set of silken balloons subsist somewhere within central whirl. so this is a life. alive. amused. a muse. disjointed tugging tangents stretched in my heart. like a canvas ready for paint. a sudden rouge. visionary ravished at a rosy fragrance height. fingers french kissing quick whispers across spoiled ink. somehow faint yet sweeping. bathe before the night darkens day. before the aqua clears. a ribbon billowing.
i wake beside light zigzagging blinds and butterflying my forehead. cotton syrup stretches. a nudge of simpleness. fainthearted mocha eyes, I want a sip. a name settled on my lips. but day hasn’t fallen yet and time shakes her head, not her hips.
I always find the hype of #NYFW intriguing. The often glam, sometimes controversial, always eye-bugging bustle of innovative designer vision. From fabric choice to silhouette, the consumer driven fashion world takes note of the upcoming trends and becomes obsessive to mimic or knock-off the coolest pieces. The buzz around street style, which is mostly for those eager to appear inclusive to this biannual event, allows individuals to strut their expressiveness as if they dress like that “everyday.” But I cannot complain, the rise of social media has brought fashion week to the forefront of our news feeds and made it accessible to anyone interested. As I sit in Los Angeles, the pure adventure and expression of the runway shows shown on my computer spark my own creativity. *Clothing after all is all about finding yourself.
To my pleasure, a little whimsical eyeliner and the reappearance of 90’s slip dresses was enough inspiration to get my out the door, on the metro, and along the deserted beach front during a chilly afternoon. Sitting along the waves, writing poetry into a journal, and owning my own style made this cloudy September day one to remember. And the fact that there was a guy handing out American flags to random people that “embody the spirit of America.” (Yeah, I got some red, white, and blue.) Fashion, in my opinion, should be more centered on individuality. You all have my permission to be a personal style bad*ss!
How do you feel about fashion week? And how do you plan to incorporate the trends with your own twist? Comment below!