New Week Style, With Selena

Me getting ready for the new week by outlining how I’m going to expose the Kardashian Jenner West family, Melanie Hamrick, Ed Westwick and their affiliates in a beautiful cohesive manner. Overwhelmed with receipts and themes: black magic, racism, classism, power, morality, greed, desperation, but they all have one thing in common. Stupidity. Are you ready for the grand finale folks? Good things come to those who wait, I patiently gathered my evidence while these dingbats thought they were pulling a con. The saying is true after all. Via: Selena Laleyenda

Serving Looks, Serving Maripol

Best fashion compliment of my life? Maripol, who I was stunned to meet in Graceland (a room covered wall to wall, top to bottom with photographs of Grace Jones, most taken by the aforementioned party) when Serge Becker introduced her. “You were just in The New York Times,” I blurted out leaving them astonished.

“Yeah,” she smiled slightly. We all went back to glum.

I continued setting up before making my way to the back dining room next door, turns out I was her server. For those not up to speed she created Madonna’s iconic Boy Toy look and styled Grace Jones. A legendary renaissance woman apart of a golden age of art from the 70’s-80’s, running in the most coveted social circles on the scene. Needless to say her standards were tip top bitch. And here I was fifteen minutes late in the first place, deciding to wear my Halloween costume for David Bowie who passed that day. Rocking a silk lavender jumpsuit, switching the scarf out for a black floral one, instead of the orange birds I originally donned. Tying it into a voluminous bow, that burst like a bouquet. “That’s a serious jumpsuit,” Serge commented earlier that evening, freaked out “I just dropped off flowers that exact color to Iman.” He stared incredulous by the coincidence, because coincidences don’t really exist, only synchronicity. Now, under Maripol’s appraising eye the pressure was on in more ways than one and no matter how hard I tried to please her service wise, she was unimpressed. Never enough water, never enough ice, the drinks were slow. Testing me, I knew.

I just kept going, complaining at the service bar that she might actually hate me. After a grueling effort the night ended. “Nice outfit,” Maripol said, leaving a generous tip.
“Thank you, it’s my homage to Bowie.”
“It’s beautiful.”

After being hawked and her whispering to the blonde next to her, I swore she hated everything about me. But it was option two, she was giving me shit because she liked me too much. This is a moment I will savior forever, fortunate enough just to meet her. What was the best fashion compliment you’ve ever received? Via: Documenting Fashion & Strip Project


Category Is: Larger Than Life Turbans

Extravagance only! Give us glamour, give us Marge Simpson, tell me my fortune at a Truman Capote party. Sophia has entered twice, is it fair? Is she cheating? We’ll allow it, she came to play. And the winner is? Via: David Bailey, Fault Magazine, Richard Avedon & Adeline Style