becoming minimalist and why more is just more

May 18, 2015



UPDATE: This becoming minimalist post is back by popular demand. 

Since returning home from my first solo travel trip ever, I immediately fell prey to the "system" yet again. 

This time, the love of my life has seen the light and decided the system doesn't work for him either. So we are off to travel the world, leaving everything behind. This is how my minimalist journey started...

***

I'm a little fed up. I live in a country where I wake up every morning for the sole purpose of paying bills and taxes. Where my government officials wake up every morning to serve people, so long as those people deal them eight-figure checks under the table. Where capitalist conglomerate CEOs wake up every morning to ensure they're creating the absolute healthiest foods, safest drugs, and the most transparent companies on Earth. If they happen to turn over a tiny profit of 13.6 billion dollars, then hey, that's just a bonus. And who can forget the drones. Oh. No. No no, not the fly by night kind. The 9-5 kind. You know the ones. The sluggish drones who also wake up every morning complacent, fearful, and unfulfilled; plugging in hours at a job they loathe while penning a blog at night they hope will make them rich, perpetuating relationships they dream of having the courage to end, making bucket lists they have no business creating in the first place, and envying the lives of prettier, skinner, more famous [enter names here] while never acknowledging that [enter names here] detests their own lives too. Lindsay Lohan with a side of Amanda Bynes anyone?

wearing backpacks is whack

Nov 19, 2014


Unless, of course, you look like this. We know Ivania is gorgeous. I have gray hair and don't wake up looking that stunning. I definitely stun people, but not in a come hither way. Speaking of, is the backpack a source of man repelling? I didn't even wear one in college. A sort of rebellion showcase to assert my new found adulthood, and freedom of choice beyond parental guidelines as well as their almighty dollar. Instead, I opted for what must have been knockoff designer purses that were large enough to carry a house cat. That was the cool way to go to school. Or so I thought.

I've been eyeing minimalist sacks for most of the year, and with a fledgling startup under my nose, my vegan leather hobo carryall is getting too cliche for my taste. How is it, that when I decide to leave New York, that is when I become a goddamn hipster? First everlane, now this. But I assure you, investing in a flawlessly designed purse for your derrier's northern cousin is a sound judgement call. Kind of like Kanye West uniformly clothing himself in leather jogging pants. It will eventually be good for you...and the world. Plus, imagine the hands free delight! Here are the exact favorites I have so carefully curated for my own window shop file since January. Now that winter is here, the timing seems fitting.




Now let's just take a second and chat about Mum & Co. The fact that anyone has a mum making backpacks as chic as these is unquestionably unfair. The fact that every stitch is sewn by one person with hand selected leathers and Italian-like finishing for less than the cost my grandma's cable bill is unfathomable. The fact that the only colorways available can be counted on one hand but amount to the purist and most absolute that any one woman would need is genius. But the fact that the brand is charmingly named Mum, after someone's real mum, all the way across the pond where undoubtedly the design world is always two steps ahead, well, that's not surprising at all. Now is it.


What do you think...backpacks for adults worthy of capsule wardrobe space?


becoming minimalist lola and what the heck is the point


Hola! Bonjour! Oh, and hello.

I'm back from Mexico, after what would have been half a year over there, but how would you know because I just up and abandoned you like an American reality tv stereotype father and left my blog to fall to shit. Let's not play games here. There is some major lame sauce being spread on pretty thick when I decide to not post, and I do this to you every year. It's got to stop. I googled blog owner rehab and nothing came back. So I went and got a two liter bottle of Moscato, and a gallon of cookies and cream, and watched selfhelp television in the form of a Jennifer Lopez life journey documentary, and I feel all better now! Thanks for asking. Ah, you know I tease. I've been back weeks now, got through a horrid relationship stronger than ever, and have put devoted energy into giving this old cow of a blog a Hollywood-worthy facelift. Not in a Renee Zellweger kind of way where you're like what the f**k is that, but more in a graceful....um...damn, blanking on the most recent graceful plastic surgery transition to hit the news. Sophia Loren and Donatella Versace are not where we wanna be right ladies? Gracias to those who commented kindly on the new look and content here. I feel like if I don't find time in my schedule to share that we can get over our H&M addiction, no one will.

So look. Glad to see you still riding it out with me five years later on this notoriously humble yet rule breaking blog. I am a gal of many words, but when it comes to using them sometimes I am at a loss, especially with blogging. Why? Well it's hard to be born one of the chosen ones. 


You might have heard of us. Black people. We have tons of privileges, the least of which includes remaining a minority for eternity in all of life's innumerable categories. 

Who knew blogging would be one of them. But it's not just the fact that I am yet to find bloggers of color getting equal praise to that of their blonde, blue-eyed, impeccably dressed counterparts, it's that I'm now part of a minority of bloggers distancing themselves from shallow, conspicuously consumptive, vapid diaries, that are really no more than tweets with a few more characters thrown in. Well, there needs to be room for all those c/o tags following every designer piece they name drop. Duh.

So you might know me from a few things, either my bustling new vegetarian culinary delight called Pick Me Meal Club after really becoming enamoured with the slow food movement and wanting to know where our food comes from, and why lazy people refuse to cook when they live in big cities, or from my eco luxury concierge that landed me on the front page of the NY Times,  or more famously my former glories being editor-in-chief of international newsstand fashion rags. Yes, yes I know...but what can I say, I don't just dream, I plan. I once learned that dreams and goals are two very different things. If you are baffled, I will explain. Dreams are aspirational whimsies that live on pink clouds where planes, and owls, and anthrax can't reach. Goals have deadlines, costs, and make you sweat at times from bewildering, paralyzing, anxiety. Catch my drift? Okay, so we are on the same page. Since I was little, I never dreamed for some reason (maybe a birth defect?) I only always made plans and goals, mostly in little notebooks that I collect (quick note: I collect paper, pens, notebooks- they have lots of paper- books, magazines and anything pink like carebears and dresses). So anyway, I have tons of little knick knack patty whacks around the house stored in bins and suitcases (I move a lot) that contain all the goals I ever had. Some were to be a famous actor (I got selected to join a prestigious acting program but decided fashion was calling me more, what a dimwit choice that turned out to be seeing as I could be the baby momma of Ryan Gosling right now, not Eva!) and some were superficial like learning yoga or losing 20 pounds for bikini season as instructed by Cosmo, Self, and enter-any-other-women's-mag-here. So yeah, not being cocky, but that annoying piece of advice you always hear is true!

HARD WORK PAYS OFF


So I like my little motto to be "Just do it!" at all times. Yes, yes I know. I swear, Nike and I have been to court several times. I just keep telling them I started that slogan first....oh wait, Nike has been around since when? Ooops. 

Back to the point. Welcome to my blog for the many of you who are new followers and those of you that never left; let's pretend that it just launched, and I hope you enjoy it. I know my true calling now, and against all odds, at least I discovered it and have the balls to speak my mind on it instead of being a tepid pussy like many are when they don't know any better. For years, especially with George Bush as my leader and century-old text books as my source of education, really, what choice did I have? So gather round and let's cozy up to one another. I will post daily musings on minimalism, an evolving fashion industry, coveted products worth noting, and becoming a traveling digital nomad serial entrepreneur and.... Oh yeah, forgot about that. Ok rewind.....

So I really love acting. I am the most extroverted person you might meet. Most times loud and funny, other times sweet and dramatic. At least I have heard. If you ask me, I am jut being myself and don't really have adjectives to describe it. Maybe- human? So I really wanted to be the next Julia Roberts when I was little, and worked up enough nerve to read tons of books, research like crazy (an addictive habit I have had since birth, more on that later) and discover what monologues were so that I could audition for a coveted spot at Coral Reef High. I found a monologue about a girl who was a slave (I think?) and got the spot! They loved it. It was amazing. The most nerve wracking thing ever in my life I swear...but ya know, I found out about fashion school (that they exist!) and decided to leave acting on the back burner for a while. Plus, how hard can it be to reignite a performance career later on where all I have to do is be myself. Piece of cake.

Got into fashion school which was also a pain, in the anxiety sort of way. They make you draw a myriad of things like architecture and live models on the spot which makes me nervous and my hands sweat. I hate it. Hate art class too, which was 50% of my coursework there. Its just not fun being forced to be creative in 'time slot A 2:00-4:00pm'...maybe it's just me I dunno. So anyway, I was the top of my class as always because I am slightly competitive, and also just loved it to death, so it made me work hard even when I didn't need to. Then slacking settled in, and my teacher thought I was a loser probably, so I decided to leave and head for my birth home of NYC to make it big. I really am quite independent and pack up and go whenever I please. I convinced my mom only because my biological dad resided in Queens still and so I stayed with him. I graduated in fashion design and business marketing (not to mention I started off in journalism school) and came back to Miami where I met my bf and started a fashion blog with his encouragement. That is where, pretty much still straight out of school like a fresh piece of meat, I turned my first internship into a major fashion editor position and played that career out for ten years until I read a book, which led to a series of books (love you Michael Pollan and Summer Rayne Oakes!) that changed my life completely. I've always been an inquisitive little wanker, but now I felt betrayed by my country and government and favorite brands for their lack of transparency and wanted to know where everything from my food to clothing came from. So here I am.

This whole brain fart is to say, for Christ's sake, blogging can get lonely after you quit your job to do, um, online writing with no sense of security or stability only to find out thousands of other aimless chicks doing the same thing, and I'm not doing this for my health people. You know how it feels! I don't know you but I love you. All your comments literally add a glimmer of hope in my otherwise desperate attempt to believe in humanity. You are my little coterie of questionable kindred spirits. So let's change this whole thing we got going where none of us know one another. I'm bringing back my popular and beloved Reader Love series, along with a few more series I'm sure you'll adore, but for now, introduce yourself why don't ya! My blog would be nothing without the sole intention of me wanting to foster a community for our generation of girls that believe beauty is beyond the standard and a desire to care how we look through fashion and dress can convert from superficial to substantial if we're just willing to ask questions. I know there are tons of intelligent beings reading right now who feel the same or are curious at the least. And I don't want to assume where you come from, what you do, what your aspirations are. Instead...


Tell me in the comments a bit about yourself. I don't bite. And I promise the vain and vapid version of you will get pleasure out of it! 

If you need some inspiration, try:
  • Who are you, where are you from, what do you do and what do you wish you did instead?
  • How'd you find this here blog?
  • Are you even remotely interested in sustainable style and ethics and minimalism or do you just like to read rants from an angry black woman!
  • What did you wish would change about _____?
  • Do you blog? If so, here's your once chance to spam me!
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