Well, I guess I’m back. I don’t know where from and certainly not where to. I have read about myself (I just wanted to test the level of coolness to this particular sentence, but technically I read about someone else – it was an interview – who shortly mentioned me in a totally flattering manner, and then I remembered I once had a blog and that once I had these big plans about it, and instead it proved to be potentially better than successful: it was therapy. Until I started treating it like a job and screwed it up – just another ‘must-do’ that hanged on my neck, along with a dozen other mill stones of which I always complain about not being capable of dragging after me. And what happens at some point is too predictable: I cut myself loose and leave it all aside and behind. Then I try, and it doesn’t come hardly, to do absolutely nothing. This mostly occurs between two rough periods of time, between an almost surmounted difficulty and another anticipated one, so this indolent break of mine is my unhealthy way of trying to come up with a different plan – one that might salvage the situation. But the madness derived from doing the same mistake over again and expecting different results each time is nothing more than ridiculous, childish, pitiful, and perfectly normal for us, cognitive creatures that haven’t got the slightest clue about what drives their mediocre lives on the easiest path to disaster. I can’t say where I’m going to, because I am weak, subjective and, even if I weren’t, I still would be no prophet and probably no one can really act like one: this road has no tangible, definite end.
Now I’m looking forward to a time when I shall master the technique of capturing the prosaic part of my life, as well – should anyone ask, the highlight of the last couple of weeks was the return of True Blood on air – damn, did I miss it! The rest of my time spins fast, just like the threads I use to sew a few garments, to save what’s left of my final exams. These two most trivial sentences in the world clearly prove that I’m no way near taking that turn just yet – I’d rather share my thoughts about how sometimes I feel the urge to beat the crap out of someone spilling honey-like words to my face, when every muscle of their face betrays the sickness they’ve been developing ever since they’ve met their undeserved freedom of fucking everyone else up.
* Wearing Topshop dress, Asos sandals, New Yorker socks & vintage jewelry
I was pretty undecided upon whether I should post this photo – a funny mix of cat-porn and the relieving discovery that there is someone (or at least ‘something’) that walks more proudly than I do and wears no heels at all.
The shoes must have got the cat confused – she asked me what are those for? I was more confused about her tail, though, so she said it helps her jump. I told her that my heels also help me jump – over insecurities and triteness.
Great look, awesome print on the dress- just beautiful.
Thank you!
We sometimes need to be reminded of parts of ourserlves which used to be important but which we tend to push aside for some reason. I also think fashion has a lot to do with our insecurities and with accepting the fact that most of the times we don’t know what (the fuck ) we are doing. We should wear our fears proudly, like oversized plastic accessories. I sometimes feel like looking in a mirror while reading the things you write. You don’t hide behind these images. I like that.
First, I’d like to thank you! You reminded me of that part of me that sneaked out without an honorable reason to do so – but then I read that interview where you mentioned me and I was truly happy that the one Romanian girl whose style I find most inspiring (and yes, quite related to mine – I can spot the same sort of ‘sartorial schizophrenia’ in our way of dressing up, and that ironic, costume-y factor – more obvious in your case, truth be told) finds herself an inspiration in my approach to fashion – it meant much more than it does when I hear it from someone else!
)
And yes, I also think that fashion is where we dump loads of our insecurities and complexes, so when we try to face this hugely horrifying world, for fear of not being eaten alive, we put on these constructions that are meant to give a hint of what we’re like and how we’d like to be perceived – it’s hard to point out exactly where fashion serves as a means of expression and where does it act solely on the grounds of ‘impression’. But my guess is that the less substance there is beyond a person’s cover-up, the more they have to substitute expression with something that may have little to do with their personal reality: a deceiving image. I wanted to avoid building a ‘marketable’ version of me here, on my blog, even if I tried to stay away from being too personal, as well – and when I realized that here I am ‘allowed’ to write about what people in my real, day-by-day life, never ask, I felt like welcoming an unexpected gift: this type of transparency has tempered my mad drives and helped me be more self-analytical. And it makes me infinitely more glad to be able to reach those exact people that can go beyond ‘Oh, I looove your shoes!’ – that’s a good starting point for building a different, honest, I’d say, kind of interaction.
PS. The only way I could wear my fears without fear would start with taking off those shoes, and wearing a perfectly boring pair, instead – a couple of weeks ago I bought my very first pair of ballet shoes: cheap, red, too classically versatile, with an annoying tendency of making my legs look ‘girly’, almost sweet. I find it traumatic to wear them – it hurts more than the wounds on my feet that usually start bleeding when I wear my platforms. But I keep trying and telling myself that it’s still me walking in a pair of ugly flats (besides, I nearly drown myself in compensatory prints, so as to avoid an identity crisis). So after all is it an image I’m holding on to or are crazy fucked-up shoes a natural extension to myself?!(I’d go for the second one, but who knows)
Oh my God now I see the amount of crap I could just deliver. I think I ought to go out with someone, release some of this bulk! I’ve been alone for a week now, working, and I might be getting even more tormented than usually..:)
I would like to have a cup of tea with you, in the most honest sense possible…:)
P.S : I happened to read again what I wrote and I was also thinking that I delivered a huuge amount of crap. Unrescuable schizos, like the dresden dolls song goes.
I’d like to honor that invitation, so if I happen to go to Bucharest any time soon (aka this year:)), I’ll surely let you know!
PS. The circuit of crap is a lot more interesting to follow than anything else in the world right now, especially for someone like me, challenged by the amount of stuff left to do for tomorrow’s exam, thus trying to find an excuse to take one break after another, left quite blank by the sudden disappearance of a beloved suicidal habit (smoking).
Îmi place că eşti originală şi îndrăzneaţă în abordările vestimenatare.
http://www.zadinblog.com
Multumesc:))