Ahhhhhhhhh, I can finally breathe again. Nearly a decade has passed since Sade released her last album Lovers Rock and she is finally back to grace us with new music. Her forthcoming album Soldier of Love will debut February 8th and I can't get passed the alluring cover design. I love, love, LOVE this woman! Her music matches my moods and takes me places. I've reigned as King of Sorrow, I've cherished the day and sat on Lovers rock. It's been too long.
I've never been one for shopping. Don't get me wrong, I adore clothes just as much as any other woman, but malls I can not do. My heart begins to race, sweat glands go into overtime and I get flushed with fever. It's a taxing experience and if I never step into a mall again, I wouldn't mind at all.
Anywhooooo, in a recent assignment, I caught a glimpse into members-only shopping clubs, such as Rue La La, Gilt.com, HauteLook, Popsy and other sites that sell high-end designer items at the lowest prices ever. Think Manhattan sample-sale meets the online world of shopaholics.
If you're addicted to Gucci bags, Prada shoes and the likes, an esoteric online shopping community will be an exciting and social way to shop. I spent weeks conducting research and drawing price comparisons against products sold at private online clubs and other websites.You can easily buy a Lauren Merkin clutch for $100 rather than its original $225 price tag. Don't believe me?
It’s funny how a song can make you revisit a scene in life, causing you to dig up the pits from your past. While delving through my memory’s museum, I toppled onto an incident that occurred sometime last summer.
As my roommate and I sat in boredom one afternoon, we retreated to a celebrity gossip site to spice up our day. Somehow in our quest to find the latest and juiciest gossip, we stumbled across a radio snippet featuring an ignoramus rapper named Young Berg.
My blood boiled with anger, my eyes bubbled in disbelief as he aired his distaste for dark skinned women, in favor of those with light skin and even lighter eyes.You mean, all this time I thought the most unique aspect of “blackness” was our assortment of skin tones ― ranging from honey hues, almond toasted toffee to velvety chocolate?
I couldn’t believe this man denounced an entire spectrum of women and referred to us as dark butts. I reeled the interview back several times to make sure his comments resonated and this wasn’t a mental trick. He then proceeded to share his spin on the antiquated brown paper bag test of the early 1900s.
He coined it “the pool test” and outlined the precise criteria for distinguishing the good-haired from the nappy-headed: If a woman waltzed out of a pool with perfectly coiffed ringlets, she was fine, fair-skinned and for him. For any reason, if her hair morphed into a kinky afro ― she was deemed dark and undesirable.
After the first five minutes of his despicable remarks, I weaved together my thoughts in a heated editorial. I assumed every chocolate girl in America would lock arms and burn down his home, slaughter his dog or commit some other act of cruelty. I guess I was the only one that held such vengeance and disgust over his comments. Day after day, his one hit saturated the airwaves and continuously topped 106 & Park’s video countdown.
Sorry for the personal anecdote.
I’m not attempting to feed you more jargon about the woes of dark skinned women nor is it my desire to cross examine the psyche of a color struck rapper. I will, however, tip my hat off to an extraordinary lyricist named Wale. In his song “Shades,” he tackles his struggle with self-acceptance, an insecurity stemming from the jiggaboo vs. wannabe paradox.
I know all rappers don’t rhyme about copping candy painted cars, chasing model chicks and stacking cake. Some rhyme about delinquent fathers, domestic violence and political issues plaguing society. [It’s categorized as conscious rap] But never in the history of rap music have I heard any rap artist address colorism from a male perspective — if it wasn’t to defend a casting call featuring vanilla crème girls with hair touching their ankles.
I digress…
Despite Wale’s highly anticipated debut, I didn’t know much about his personal life before I listened to “Shades.” Besides his strong Nigerian roots and hometown allegiance to D.C., I knew little else…
Little did I know, colorism crippled his self-esteem for years as he harbored resentment towards the “light-skins.” When the khaki-colored guys snagged the pretty girls, he cursed his soiled ebony skin for not availing similar advantages.
For some reason, society’s typical depiction of colorism never fails to reference a black girl [named Pecola, preferably ] who picked up a mirror as a child and balked at her licorice skin and course matted hair. By conditioning, we cast colorism as a “black women’s thang” and never acknowledge the scores of black men suffering from the divisive mindset. And for that reason, I commend you, Wale.
So, you think you're on the cutting edge of fashion or just one of the cool kids, well then you should already have the latest fashion accessory this fall. No, it's not an imitation of Michael Jackson's sequined military jacket circa the 1984 Grammys, but designer hand sanitizer.
I'm not joking.
If you have no idea what I'm talking about, well your cool points have already been tossed. Sadly, I never thought I'd see the day when hand sanitizer would be deemed as fashionable. While the swine flu spreads like cancer throughout the nation, retailers are rolling out "designer" hand sanitizer to prevent germs from reaching the fashion majors and trend setters of the world. These days, everyone's fleeing from the cooties and that's cool, however, when did Victoria Secrets, Ed Hardy and a host of other retailers get the notion to market customize bottles of antibacterial gel into a compelling fashion statement?
Victoria Secrets already sells a wide collection of fragrances and body products and that prompts me to question this new line up. The slogan, perhaps: What's fashion without clean hands? A freak? Apparently if you don't upgrade your germ repellent than you're a fashion reject. Are chemists in the lab right now concocting specialized scents to sell? Are they placed near top selling lotions such as Love spell and Enchanted Apple to stir competition? Or are they cater-corner to the laced bra and panty set to entice impulse buyers like myself?
Who's really buying this stuff?
And Ed Hardy, one of the trendiest brands in fashion history has gone designer? This brand alone will bring droves of pretentious, high-end shoppers to the mall in search of the latest fashion scoop. To culminate their shopping excursion of Gucci and gold, they'll gladly stop at Ed Hardy ― even if it is just for hand gel. I can see these shoppers totting around their flashy tattoo-inspired bottles while snickering at the cash-strapped girl who can barely afford a knockoff from Target ― Targèt rather.
And my heart bleeds for the impressionable school children that are obvious targets of this scheme to bully them out of their chump change. Pleading for access into the A-list cliques on the playground or the chance to fraternize with jocks and cheerleaders during lunch, they'll do anything to boost their cool points. So, if you're going to hang with the cool crowd, now you need to have a key chain with hand sanitizer dangling from your backpack. This kind of peer pressure lurks around playgrounds and erodes the minds of our youth ― the most powerful consumers-to-be that have the ability to revolutionize retail.
I'm only drawing from my own desperate pursuit of "the cool" in my heyday. For some reason, I sought validation through pricey labels that had less to do with personal style and more to do with blind adoration for visible designer labels. But kids will no longer beg mom and dad for fifty bucks for a designer shirt because now they'll use their lunch money to buy the fanciest bottle of hand sanitizer they can find. I pray that feeble adolescent minds aren't susceptible to such silly marketing tactics. I know, I'm making a mountain out of a mole hill and kids, well they just wanna be cool, right?
My point precisely.
The hidden social message encourages a life of conspicuous consumption and materialism for the sake of “the cool” and that aspect alone makes me worrisome. I can foresee the psychological damage that will ensue in months to come.
I won't bore you any longer with my incessant chatter. Just know that the cool kids can rush to the cool stores to get the coolest hand sanitizer; and I'll continue to use the drab off-brand bottle at my desk. It kills germs just as well.
After racing to the theater to catch the highly anticipated release of “This Is It” last night, I woke up this morning to an upsetting and utterly appalling critique of the film, written by New York Times writer Chris Richards.
Chris, I can only conclude that every morning you wake up on the wrong side of the bed and perhaps, this is a mere reflection of your discerning disposition on any given day. But as a zealous fan of the King of Pop, I cringed and clinched as I digested your chilling thoughts this morning. [along with my granola bar for breakfast]
It’s painfully obvious that you're short sighted and lack depth to appreciate the biggest artist in music history. I mean, it's rare for mere mortals to materialize the vision of a musical genius and you're a prime example. During the 111 minute film, I'm going to assume that you were too busy jotting down your preconceived perceptions that you paid little attention to the actual footage. There's no way that we saw the same concert.
Last night, I saw the magic behind a well-woven production in the making, while you saw nothing more than a string of dress rehearsals? I caught a glimpse of Michael's peerless voice ringing in full throttle. And at age 50, he easily upstaged his dancers while shuffling through his signature moves to say: “At least you get a feel of it.”
And you consider that half-singing and half-dancing?
Sure, during rehearsal he baby sat every aspect of production just as anyone with a superior inclination for music would do. To us, he bickered with his music producer over 808s and voice infliction, when in fact; his bionic ears deciphered every vibration and sound pattern of the song.
We did, however, agree on one thing and one thing only. The dry run of “I Can't Stop Loving You” was undeniably the film’s highlight. My heart melted instantly as Michael crooned his hit and poured out bits and pieces of his raw soul.
Don’t worry, I won’t spill anymore details ― just go see it yourself. I don't know what you were watching Chris, but I caught a glimpse of someone whose passion for music left little room for disappointment. Everyone's entitled to an opinion I guess. So, in the words of Michael last night... let it burn and the lights out.
A pair of retro Air Jordans meshed into an obscure foreign object or an intriguing mosaic piecing together the fabric of mainstream urban culture? Either you're the twenty-something die hard Jordan fanatic, or you know someone with an immaculate collection.
For bragging rights, every now and then you [or them] will carefully pull out your most prized possessions and marvel at the vast empire you've earnestly built since boyhood.
Hardly worn [if ever] and preserved in the original shoe box, these made your heart melt before it fluttered for any girl.
Ironically, that same delicate treatment is being shown right now at the National Museum of the American Indian, where Indian artist Brian Jungen's Air Jordan sculpture is showcased at his newest exhibit.
Rightfully so, the Air Jordan mask is displayed behind premium plexiglass and theatrical spotlighting ― the same treatment given to any sacred artifact at a museum.
Those aren't just any sneakers though, but the most prized of them all. The ones that cause stampedes at local malls whenever a new model debuts. The ones that single-handedly transformed the fashion of athletic shoe design when the line launched in 1985.
Yes, the ones that the G.O.A.T Michael Jordan himself wore when he was fined $5,000 per game for playing ball in his own shoes ― which were banned from the NBA's footwear policy.
Surprisingly, Jungen merges popular culture and art with his latest masterpiece, showing that "Indian-ness" exceeds the skewed perception of head beads and cultural carvings.
His unconventional approach to contemporary artwork will make you rethink what the actual object really is and ponder any underlying meaning behind what it could be.
From high-end shoes to sports jerseys, golf bags and plastic chairs, Jungen uses everyday objects laying around the house to disband stereotypes of Indian art on a regular basis.
It's the strangest comfort to know that those red, black and white Jordans can no longer be worn as shoes, but more so as a cultural mask.
And how the deconstruction of the well-designed shoe can make you ponder its global impact on popular culture.
Or maybe it's just me, I guess I find comfort in the strangest things.
Visit Brian Jungen's exhibit, "Strange Comfort" from October 16, 2009–August 8, 2010 at the National Museum of American Indian on the National Mall, Washington, DC
"When the bold branches/
Bid farewell to rainbow leaves/
Welcome wool sweaters." -B.Cybrill
We're in the midst of fall and that calls for knitted sweaters, leggings and my favorite ― cardigans!
As I flip through this month's issue of Essence, I must applaud beauty and cover director, Mikki Taylor for setting the tone for the season. The cover's sultry green hues infused with warm earth tones truly rekindle the spirit of fall, the most exciting time for fashion.
Speaking of fashion, I'm uber excited about the issue's fabulous style picks that include no other singing group than The Supremes. Since, I'm known for exalting exuberance and excellence myself, [hence the blog's description] it's only fitting that I pay homage to the1960s Motown divas. After all, three young girls with big dreams rose from Detroit's housing projects and ascended to iconic heights with a string of number one hits, becoming one of the most successful female groups of all time. I think that's pretty commendable.
So, here's my ode to them:
The fashion industry has electrified since Michelle O. became the first African-American first lady. The fitted belts, string of pearls, brooches and wool skirts seem to blend her signature style while adding distinction from her drab predecessors. But whoever Michelle's stylist is ― I'm sure she/he draws constantly from the old-school, doo-wop style The Supremes popularized nearly fifty years ago.
Known for their classic music and even classier style picks, the trio's eye-popping and glitzy costumes inspired legions of black girls and women across the country ― they too, could look sophisticated, elegant and chic. I'm sure my mother and her friends giddily strutted across their living rooms when The Supremes swirled around in shimmering and lavish gowns on "The Ed Sullivan Show."
Unfortunately, I was denied that coveted experience as a young girl growing up. Being a product of Generation Y, trends change ever millisecond and it's hard to stay abreast of the latest style when the high-waisted jeans you bought two seasons ago are now a no-go and you're off to scoop the next big thing. I just can't keep up, so I don't.
Meanwhile, I would've loved to peek into Diana's fitting room to observe the elaborate styling process that took place before each performance. Since I can't hop in a time machine, I've decided to channel my inner Diana Ross and company's fall fashion pieces, which will make timeless staples in my wardrobe. Here's to oldies, but goodies...
Suited and Booted
I absolutely love the bold-colored trench coats the trio popularized. With brisk winds and rainy days during fall, a professional woman needs a tailored coat to take her from the boardroom to church. As for footwear, I can't go wrong with black suede boots.
Mix it Up
Washington, D.C. gets cold, but not like the chilly weather in The Supremes' hometown of Detroit, Michigan. With that said, I think I'm going to opt for standard leather gloves instead of the elbow-high ones from my grandmother's prom. But I can give my sweaters a little pizzazz with one or two crystal brooches and I'll layer up with a cashmere checkered scarf.
Shady Weather
Black and bold shades are fall essentials that instantly add mystique and edge to any outfit. It doesn't matter if there's a monsoon outside, I always want to be taken seriously or at least, look like it.
Big Hair and Bigger Earrings
I like sleek, straight hair during the summer. When fall arrives it's time for my glamorous "Dream Girl hair" ― affectionately coined by my friends and family. For this look you don't need a wig, but streams of big, dazzling curls. And with BIG hair, you need oversized jeweled earrings to exaggerate the look.
I always have fun remixing my doo-wop look, what do you think?
I'm sure you've seen a woman with gorgeous cascading curls and fierce Jimmy Choo pumps, but her foundation was terribly wrong. By that I mean it was two shades lighter, caked to her pores and oozed off once the sun striked. For that same reason, I've steered clear of wearing foundation for years ― especially if it's that liquid, messy kind. But I've found a make up line designed to prevent such atrocities from ever occurring.
Bilkerdijk is a New York-based company that specializes in "custom blended foundation" that is quickly mixed up by a consultant to perfectly match your skin tone. The company was founded by a black celebrity make up artist from Holland, Barbara Bilkerdijk. Similar to my frustrations, Barbara launched the line out of dissatisfaction with the heavy and unflattering make up that is saturating the market now. Now, my own beauty essentials usually doesn't exceed golden eye shadow, Dior black out mascara and a thin liner, but Bilkerdijk is definitely worth the works. Trust me, whether you're a professional everyday woman or a glam queen, this foundation will illuminate your natural hues and leave you with a fabulous finish.
My own mother, a make up extraordinaire who's been faithful to Iman products for years, was so impressed with Bilkerdijk's foundation that she bought the foundation, shades of lipstick, eye shadows and everything else. So, if you live in the New York area or plan on visiting, go get your own bottle of customized foundation. There's one location in NYC and another in New Jersey. If you're visiting and your initial bottle of foundation runs low, mail it back for a refill and your personal blend will be saved in the system.
Do you want to know what really nails the art of networking? It doesn't involve schmoozing to the big shots in the room or even chasing them for a chance. When you pull this out, you're guaranteed to beeline straight to the VIPs while everyone else fades in the background. Still wondering?
It's a camera. Not just a regular point-and-shoot from Wal-Mart ― but a rugged, high-resolution, 10.1-megapixel professional camera used by serious photographers. It has a $1,000 price tag, but it's probably the most worthwhile investment you'll ever make. I recently found out the advantages of this pricey tool during the Congressional Black Caucus' annual conference.
Roland Martin, one of my favorite journalists made an appearance at a posh reception that took place during the conference. He strutted into the night club with a slew of camera men who were filming footage for his new show on TV ONE, Washington Watch with Roland Martin. While he was flagged down for pictures, the cameras captured him two-stepping and wooing the crowd with his fancy footwork.
Being that I absolutely love this man [seriously] for his candid and cool back approach to politics, I had to get a close up with us together. A friend of mine hurriedly pulled out his Canon 40D, snapped the picture and I was happy. Instead of that moment highlighting the evening, Roland smoothly slid my camera man friend his business card which sealed the night. The bottom line is that I need to get a camera ― a professional one ― because it's apparently the golden ticket to networking.
Over the weekend my BFF and I bought promise rings ― no funny business ― we just made a commitment to God and ourselves that next time we'd have it all. After checking into heartbreak hotel a few months back, I now know the woes of a L.O.V.E.
gone bad. Yet somehow, someway I find myself restoring my confidence in it.
So, we're stretching our faith in hopes that we get it right this time. We picked out identical brass rings, placed them on our fingers and believed in the unknown. We don't plan on wearing the rings forever, just until we can replace it with (cough) a canary diamond?! They say the impostor always comes before the real thing. I sure hope so.
I'm sure you can recall the song, This time I want it all by John Legend that played during the tear-jerking season finale of The Game. If you can't remember, take a peak into the chorus.
This time I want it all/ Showing you all the cards
Giving you all my heart/This time Ill take the chance
This time Ill be your man/I can be all you need
This time its all of me
The addendum: And then she wrote more...
The ring. She got it, already
While walking to the design department at work, my co-worker anxiously flashed her Tiffany princess cut engagement ring. Yes, he popped the question! Last night, while dining at their favorite restaurant in downtown D.C., the couple celebrated their fifth year anniversary and exchanged gifts. She got him a tie, trail mix and cologne. He then pulls out a gaudy $15 "promise ring" as his gift to her, [it was really a ploy] but nonetheless she was happy that her man made a commitment to her.
He then presents her with another gift, but she could care less at this point because she already has "The Promise". She reaches into the box and pulls out... her engagement ring!
I'm so happy for her and the many blessings God has in store.
Tips to Take
1. Stay ready, don't get ready
It was a Tuesday night and my co-worker had no idea what was awaiting her at dinner, yet she was appropriately dressed for the best day ever. She wore a sexy strapless black dress, a dazzling bejeweled necklace and looked picture-perfect in every photo...I'm taking notes.
2.Please, paint your nails
The first thing I noticed [besides the ring] was her freshly painted french manicured nails and that made the ring POP even more. Speaking of such, I'm off to paint my own nails. Who knows, I might have a date with destiny.
It was in the fifth grade that I first stumbled across If by Rudyard Kipling. Well, it was actually an oral assignment that I was required to memorize. At one point, I'd memorized Jabberwocky by Lewis Carroll, Thomas Jefferson's Declaration of Independence, all of the American presidents and the list goes on.
Yet they each left my memory as soon as I belted them to the teacher. But when I recited Kipling's empowering poem, those words stuck to my bones. Overcoming adversity was the mandate and I was introduced to the concept at a young age. Of course, I wouldn't face my own bouts until years later, but the tone had been set. I too, could beat the odds.
If...
If you can keep your head when all about you Are losing theirs and blaming it on you, If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you, But make allowance for their doubting too; If you can wait and not be tired by waiting, Or being lied about, don't deal in lies, Or being hated, don't give way to hating, And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can dream - and not make dreams your master; If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster And treat those two impostors just the same; If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools, Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken, And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your winnings And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss, And lose, and start again at your beginnings And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew To serve your turn long after they are gone, And so hold on when there is nothing in you Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!'
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue, ' Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch, If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you, If all men count with you, but none too much; If you can fill the unforgiving minute With sixty seconds' worth of distance run, Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it, And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!
Chris, I can only conclude that every morning you wake up on the wrong side of the bed and perhaps, this is a mere reflection of your discerning disposition on any given day. But as a zealous fan of the King of Pop, I cringed and clinched as I digested your chilling thoughts this morning. [along with my granola bar for breakfast]
The fashion industry has electrified since Michelle O. became the first African-American first lady. The fitted belts, string of pearls, brooches and wool skirts seem to blend her signature style while adding distinction from her drab predecessors. But whoever Michelle's stylist is ― I'm sure she/he draws constantly from the old-school, doo-wop style The Supremes popularized nearly fifty years ago..jpg)
Bilkerdijk is a New York-based company that specializes in "custom blended foundation" that is quickly mixed up by a consultant to perfectly match your skin tone. The company was founded by a black celebrity make up artist from Holland, Barbara Bilkerdijk. Similar to my frustrations, Barbara launched the line out of dissatisfaction with the heavy and unflattering make up that is saturating the market now. Now, my own beauty essentials usually doesn't exceed golden eye shadow, Dior black out mascara and a thin liner, but Bilkerdijk is definitely worth the works. Trust me, whether you're a professional everyday woman or a glam queen, this foundation will illuminate your natural hues and leave you with a fabulous finish.
Being that I absolutely love this man [seriously] for his candid and cool back approach to politics, I had to get a close up with us together. A friend of mine hurriedly pulled out his Canon 40D, snapped the picture and I was happy. Instead of that moment highlighting the evening, Roland smoothly slid my camera man friend his business card which sealed the night. The bottom line is that I need to get a camera ― a professional one ― because it's apparently the golden ticket to networking.
Over the weekend my BFF and I bought promise rings ― no funny business ― we just made a commitment to God and ourselves that next time we'd have it all. After checking into heartbreak hotel a few months back, I now know the woes of a L.O.V.E.
It was in the fifth grade that I first stumbled across If by Rudyard Kipling. Well, it was actually an oral assignment that I was required to memorize. At one point, I'd memorized Jabberwocky by Lewis Carroll, Thomas Jefferson's Declaration of Independence, all of the American presidents and the list goes on. 
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