The Elusive Anna Wintour

“Anna Wintour lives next door you know,” Kelsey, the big haired, big breasted, stout cashier informed me.
“Shut. Up. You’re lying!” I replied astounded. The Anna Wintour, of Vogue Magazine, the first and last word in fashion.
“Yeah, I’ve seen her a few times and she always just stares at me disapprovingly. I feel so self-conscious every time I see her, she always looks me up and down frowning.”
Noted, my level of anxiety skyrocketing at the prospect of being on the receiving end of a fashion don’t. She’s notorious for her unyielding critics, but I hadn’t figured it transferred off glossy print pages to pedestrians. The Devil Wears Prada scene where Meryl Streep drags Anne Hathaway (over a cerulean sweater) was a real moment for Kelsey, a look saying it all. The scars remain, heard in her intonation as she told the story.

One.
The first time I saw Anna Wintour I was heading over to Melvin’s Cafe from the main restaurant, Miss Lily’s. There she was standing on the sidewalk as I walked in her direction. Wearing a white floral dress and signature shades. Rocking one dangling gold double triangular earring, a maroon skirt with slits on both sides, and a sleeveless black and white vertical striped shirt, that buttoned downed to tie at the bottom, a gold necklace, that had pendulum shaped pieces hanging, I freak out internally. Upon seeing me she moves back in surprise. It was a wordless exchange, her face conveying shock. Not only because she approved of my look, from bantu knots to heeled booties, but that I worked at such an establishment. Unable to control my facial expressions my eyes widen with joy. A sign of the future friendship I always imagined.
Pulling the door to enter Melvin’s, I take one last look in case I never get the chance again. A man exits his vehicle, handing her a package. Taking it, she enters her townhouse.
“OMG,” I screech seeing Kelsey behind the juice bar counter, “I just saw Anna Wintour!”
“You did? Told you. Did she give you a disgusted look?”
“NO! She liked my outfit!!”
“Oh, wow,” Kelsey says disheartened. In all fairness Kelsey in her Hawaiian shirts, loose fitting clothes and plain face made no effort, which is part of why she was relegated to the cafe as a cashier. She didn’t have the look, sexy, colorful, skimpy, to be a server at Miss Lily’s; the hierarchy was real. Despite not seeing eye to eye, the owners and Anna agreed on Kelsey’s ranking.

Two.
I’m in a rush. Although my tardiness had no consequences, I hate being even close to late. However, I ran out of eyeliner as I was about to start my second lid! Meaning I had to make a pitstop at CVS, where the line was too damn long. It’s the dead of winter, the sidewalks are runways with room for only one person to walk at a time. A strip of dry pavement is exposed, both sides covered by frozen, mounted snow and garbage. Lo and behold, as I’m about to traverse this obstacle course, Anna Wintour is pacing back and forth at the end of this makeshift runway. As if breaking in these over the thigh, leather, heeled boots weren’t enough, I have to walk for Anna without busting my ass. Not only would I be humiliated, I’d have to walk pass her afterwards.
Pairing another floral dress with a white jacket, cellphone to ear, shades on, Anna senses me and what does she do? She fucking stops to judge. Standing at the almost end of this runway, she faces me. Glaring. My heart literally seizes, then pounds against my ribcage. Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy? Only. Fucking. Me. Thanking God for throwing on my oversized Chloé sunglasses on a sunless day (had she seen my uneven eye makeup I’d be mortified), I walk, having no choice.
Balmain fur over a red dress that connects in the front, with a cutout back and sides, I catwalk for her eyes only. She stares. Starts to smile. Catches herself. Goes back to stoic. Then as a gesture of her approval, she makes room for me to get by, sans stepping on piled snow. Had I failed she would not have done so. This is a moment I’ll cherish forever. An actual highlight of my life, unlike some, I didn’t have to pay a million bucks for Anna’s validation (hi Kanye).

Three.
Halloween 2019. I finally left the apartment Genc Jakupi setup to have me spied on. I hated everyone there, especially lying, delusional, talentless Mallory, the girl I sublet from. His former The Box employee. Mallory who got us temporarily evicted, spending our rent money on a music video she made for Youtube. Had I not gotten word, we would have come home to locked doors the next day. She owed $5000. I made it so we could take what we needed while the issue was resolved. I digress.
Celebrating the thinning veil, Nani and I are dressed up. She’s an angel and I’m Dominque Deveraux. A wig, a skin tight, cream dress, backless, braless, a crossed string drawing attention to my spine. Walking down the street I see a woman dressed as Anna.
“Yes bitch, you’re Anna Wintour! You look major honey, major down to the bob. Work bitch, workkkkkk, yasss. You nailed it!”
The woman laughs, gripping my arm and tells me, “You look beautiful, absolutely beautiful,” she squeezes my arm while appraising me.
“See Anna I told you going out would be fun,” a scantily clad brunette says emerging from their shared cab, a blonde lady following behind her.
“Wait what! OMG you’re actually Anna Wintour!!! Omg stop!!!! I can’t!”
My eyes are bulging in pure disbelief. She’s literally wearing a bobbed wig, dressed up as herself. The color two fractions lighter than her own, her attire a dress and a dark caramel coat. She touches me a few more times, laughing her ass off before entering Indochine. Third times a charm, we were meant to be.

So I thought. Now I realize she tokenizes us, or is she just evil? Meeting her in person, meeting her standards, then seeing her allow the gutter rats known as the Kardashian Jenner West family to lower her standards. A family built on sex tapes, black magic, lies, an empire made of cards, no talent, no style, Kanye paid for her to care. To hear and experience her racism…there’s a great chasm between the two and I’m trying to fill the void.
Wasn’t L’wren Scott your friend? Why were you aiding big faced, small brained, ungrateful, mediocre, jail and hell bound Georgia May Jagger?
All I know is it’ll be handled accordingly. I’ll love those moments forever, then again I adored all the people who are now enemies. Via: Miss Lily’s





RIP Queen Elizabeth II

I wasn’t raised a feminist, nor did I have examples in my family of such a thing. Yes, the women were strong in some ways, but they followed gender roles, ones that were instilled in me. Asking me what I want to be, versus helping me attain that goal are two different things. In fact my mother, traumatized by the ups and downs of her own childhood (I think therapy will fix it) feels we deserve to be equal to, or lesser than her more often than not. Never wanting us to go too high. She’s resentful. Needless to say we have issues, I’m not an under the radar type of girl. I didn’t ask to be born and your job is to prioritize me, making sure you find someone who will treat me as their own, not ostracize me. All her and my stepdad told us repeatedly whilst doing chores, including everyone’s laundry, was if we didn’t do it right we were never going to find a husband. Our value was placed on serving men. Mind you my sister and I were being told this in elementary school.

Rebellious I found my voice to speak, started doing things my way. I decide who I wanted to become, not have it dictated to me by two never changing ignorant people. Yeah I’m domesticated, but that doesn’t define me.

History was my favorite subject in school, I excelled, getting a 98 on my regents exam. To this day I wonder what the one (or two) question(s) I got wrong was. How do you know where you’re headed without knowing where you come from? Historical figures are most fascinating, shaping the world we live in. Watching Queen Elizabeth ii, the most powerful woman in the world, whose husband had to walk behind her the entirety of his life, you could not tell me my worth was reduced to finding a husband.
She ruled when women couldn’t get jobs, she ruled when women needed permission from their husbands to change the locks, or open bank accounts, she ruled when beating your wife was acceptable. Her reign was fated. No one ever expected her to be Queen, but by a series of succession miracles she became head of state. And thank God almighty for it, without her and many other feminist icons, I wouldn’t believe in myself. I would have no one to look up to and who can be more impactful than a female monarch, when you live in a country that believes we’re too emotional to be President.

All you need to do is see to believe, like the Obama’s being in the White House, to believe you can be great, you can overcome hate, you can do anything. Queen Elizabeth’s passing feels like the Northern star was blotted out from the night sky, how do you navigate without it? How do you find home? Will my kids ever see such a sight? Reading about it versus experiencing it isn’t the same.
There was Queen Elizabeth I and Queen Victoria, who Queen Elizabeth beat by seven years, but when will this happen again? We lived in an iconic historical time due to her. She read my words and stopped affiliating with Anna Wintour, she read my words and got confirmation on her inklings regarding psychopath Mick Jagger (she’s met many rockstars and refused to be in the same room as him, or knight him), she refused to hob knob with the Kardashian Jenner West family knowing they’re gutter rats. She had standards and thank God for it. Rest in peace, thank you for be a guiding light for powerful women everywhere. I’m gonna get Mick for you, wish you were here to see it. Via: Getty Images

Who Is Serge Becker?

Serge Becker is an integral figure in Manhattan nightlife. In the 80’s he started as a DJ with eclectic taste, being involved in both the punk and hip hop scene. Then he became the art director of legendary nightclub AREA, a major celebrity hotspot which filled the void of Studio 54’s closure. It’s just so crazy, growing up I admired AREA for it’s artistry in invitations and themes, so to work for the person behind it was surreal.
Joe’s Pub, La Esquina, The Box, Miss Lily’s, he’s directed videos for Nine Inch Nails and is now the creative director at the Museum Of Sex.
Personally, I think of him as an interactive artist, since I’ve seen the impact his designs at Miss Lily’s has on people; the way it affects their person, awakens, stirs, loosens something within. No one enters those spaces and leaves unchanged. Soho is easily my favorite: the record tables, record covers as wallpaper, smut plastered on the wall behind the service station, the difference between the front and back of the restaurant. This is why I was his favorite, don’t get me wrong he had a few, but I was most like him. That artsy, erudite, socialite, party, old school glamorous, scandalous, rock n’ roll, about the b.s, cool Manhattanite. A reminder to him that the splendor of New York hasn’t utterly vanished.

Serge is the one thing I miss most about Miss Lily’s. He saw me as a person, not a caricature. While he would ignore most people, literally not saying hi, he adored me. We talked about art, drugs, the social scene. One Christmas he literally brought his prime rib down just for me, completely ignoring Simi the bartenders attempts at conversation.
He didn’t assume anything about me, he asked.

On my birthday he sent shots, champagne and dessert to my party of 15. Probably one of my best birthdays yet, everyone had the best time, no one remembers it. All of us felt we were in a fever dream, probably because the bill was $750 and I kid you not, on GOD, there was $100 TOPS, TOPS, spent on food (not including endless free shots). I kept trying to order a meal, it just didn’t happen. My co-workers were stunned by our ability to drink like fish. We were wasted beyond belief. I got a text the next day from some Italian guy I met on the bathroom line, no recollection. He started off with an inside joke too…awkward af, I didn’t know what he was talking about.
Serge made sure to send me a list of his favorite movies on my birthday, since I was a film minor at one point and we loved movies. We loved art in general, but film was our thing.

Anna Wintour on the other hand abhors him. She’s the reason Miss Lily’s Soho doesn’t have a liquor license, selling soju and sake as substitutes. As head of the community board, her objection was due to Serge Becker’s involvement in establishments like The Box.

I opine something went down between Anna & Serge, crossing paths on the 80’s art scene. No one can convince me otherwise. Anna Wintour as an enemy is major though. Again this is where I met Mick Jagger, our regulars were celebrities. This place was the Studio 54 of restaurants. I saw Anna twice outside Lily’s, three times total in my life.

When I exited on terrible terms, my co-workers reported Serge was crestfallen. Thanks to the complicated nature of things I won’t go into, I had to leave him behind. But, I know he’s watching knowing he was right all along, I’m extraordinary. I’ll never forget our David Bowie moment (read Serving Looks,Serving Maripol), they were friends.

I’m fortunate to be woven into the tapestry of people I grew up revering. It was an honor working for Serge, even when he was playing mind games. Even when he was insanely OCD, like the time he came into Graceland complaining everything was a mess before an event. No one agreed.
“What’s this?”
“What?” Melody, another server and I say in unison.
He then proceeds to pull an entire iron out of nowhere, staring at us. It’s my belief that he planted it behind the couch as a test. Serge always knew I was a star, no one knew I’d be an icon though (as in I conned those hoes into incriminating themselves and emptying their pockets). There you have it the Serge Becker I’m constantly talking about. Via: Aleim Magazine & Gawker

Basquiat, André, Andy & Anna

Remembering when Anna Wintour knew the difference between stars and spectacles. What an iconic photo of a golden period in art. New York City in the 80’s was a different species, gritty, glamorous, dangerous and electric. If ever you need an example of lows creating greatness that era is it. Another reason I cherish Serge Becker, he was apart of this vibe. Anna despises him, I wonder if they crossed paths during this time and something insidious transpired? Andy Warhol took these at Julian Schnabel’s Pace Gallery exhibit. Via: PopArtTrio

RIP Andre Leon Talley

I don’t have a lot to say. I yelled at him, then protected him til the end and beyond. I just couldn’t leave him and his legacy like that. He was a hypocrite for that VP Kamala Harris Vogue cover, but I didn’t turn on him. I guess you can be mad at someone and still love them, idolize them, be inspired by them. That’s what he taught me amongst many things. A legend. I’ll be rewatching his documentary tonight, The Gospel According To Andre. All I asked was no more January deaths, but he had to do it. He’s in heaven.

His life story was not only relatable, but resonated with me out of all the fashion mentors the most. Black people aren’t a monolith, being different is hard, to see someone else doing it makes it easier, makes you feel less alone. Don’t let anyone dim your light, shine brighter. A trailblazing icon. Thank you for your work, for elevating the culture. Rest in Prada. Via: The Talk Of Shame, Kurt Rowe, Dameon_Priestly_Artist, I Am Judith Heard, Murray’s My Name, CNN Style

Supermodel 101: Beverly Johnson

Gorgeous almond shaped eyes, chiseled cheeks and a jawline that could cut diamonds and bitches, Beverly Johnson is babelicious. In her youth she wanted to be a professional swimmer, switching fields she pursued studies in criminal justice at Northeastern University, where she tried out modeling for a summer. After being rejected by agencies due to racism, she got her big break working for Glamour, where she booked the cover, breaking record sales in 1971. The cultural icon continued to shape the fashion industry, making history as the first black woman on the cover of American Vogue and French Elle. The Vogue shoot led to an influx of black models being hired.

The foxy disco diva went on to grace over 500 magazine covers (Ebony, Harper’s Bazaar, Cosmopolitan…), strut down major runways (Halston, Tommy Hilfiger, Valentino, Yves Saint Laurent, Calvin Klein), became the face of countless campaigns (Danskin, Capri, Revlon, Versace) and has done her signature hand on the hip pose for iconic photographers Francesco Scavullo, Irving Penn and Arthur Elgort. A knockout, she went on to acting after studying with the great Lee Strasberg, getting roles in Martin, Meteor Man and Crossroads.

Not only was her memoir a NYT bestseller, but this mother of one who shares a kid with producer Danny Sims (the man behind Bob Marley’s hits), has a successful luxury brand. When the camera calls though, this beauty still makes time to hit those angles henny.

My favorite part about this badass queen is her activism, expressing her truth about racism in the fashion industry and the difficulties she’s faced. Using her position of power to create change. I’m going to do something different and attach articles to this piece. Beverly deserves to be heard and not just seen (even though she’s fine af). Thank you for your candor and legacy. Which Beverly is your current mood? Photographers: Francesco Scavullo & Getty Images

Fashion Industry Still Racist: https://www.washingtonpost.com/opinions/2020/06/16/i-was-first-black-model-cover-vogue-fashion-industry-still-isnt-fixing-its-racism/

Trauma Of Black Modeling: https://theglowup.theroot.com/i-knew-i-was-a-token-beverly-johnson-revisits-the-trau-1844466390

Anna Wintour: https://www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/article-8426897/Beverly-Johnsons-former-publicist-says-Vogue-refused-invite-1992-anniversary-bash.html

Negligence Is The New Black

Another day, another racial faux pas courtesy of Vogue. “Anna Wintour is a bitter, old, white woman,” was the message broadcast to the group chat. Okay, tell us how you really feel; she was incensed. I’d yet to consume my first cup of coffee and already drama was brewing (very Carrie Bradshaw. SATC sans Samantha still weighs heavy on the heart and mind). Opening the notification, I expand the bite size image accompanying her statement. Before me was a picture of Madam Vice President Kamala Harris, standing in front of shoddy draping, the color scheme of watermelon. She was blindsided by the cover, having along with her team selected the powder blue power suit, against a consciously curated, rich, golden backdrop as seen above. A furor unfurled across the internet, the public perceiving the February (Black History Month) cover as disrespectful, intentional even.

Being the first Black and South Asian American woman to fill this position, Kamala Harris is groundbreaking on multiple levels, a historical figure who will be inscribed in textbooks forevermore. She deserved better. Fool me once shame on you, fool me 19 years shame on us all. This isn’t the first time Vogue has been in hot water over Wintour’s lackadaisical approach regarding diversity. In 2008 Lebron James and Gisele Bündchen, replicated a King Kong poster where the gorilla recklessly dangles a dainty white woman from his brute arms. Then we have the dismal cover of Olympic champion Simone Biles, shot by Annie Liebowitz, making the reputable photographer look like a dilettante rather than a professional.
Condé Nast has a penchant for linking dark skin women with connotations of slavery. Academy award winning actress Viola Davis on Vanity Fair was the spitting image of “The Scourged Back.” A painful photo from 1863, where a former slave displays his heavily scarred back, marred by whip lashes. So no I’m not jumping to conclusions, the watermelon reference was calculated.

Adding his two cents was former editor André Leon Talley (you said come for you, ight bet), whose speech in an attempt to be eloquent insulted my intelligence and offended me, not only as a person of color, but as a woman. A direct quote from his book calls Wintour out for the same behavior he’s now defending. “I want to say one thing, Dame Anna Wintour is a colonial broad, she’s a colonial dame, she comes from British, she’s part of an environment of colonialism. She is entitled and I do not think she will ever let anything get in the way of her white privilege.”

Talley it seems is woke when it profits him. Continuing his bid for attention in a long winded caption under Wintour’s choice, he references culture vultures the Kardashian Jenner klan, as beautiful and that there will be more women wearing Converse due to this unkempt cover, because not everyone aspires to be empresses like them. You mean Kamala who was born with the features they purchase isn’t an empress? Google the word and take a seat. What year and century do you think we live in André? Gee golly, do you think we’ll wear pants too? Converse has been on the scene since the days of punk, so save it. The audacity of him as a black person to even reference them with the likes of Harris is VERY telling. It’s people like him, their inconsistency, that keeps us in this position. Furthermore your opinion is irrelevant, if the VP (reread her title please) wasn’t feeling it, that’s what matters. You’ve pulled strings for people of lesser stature, borderline con artists.

Speaking of the KarJenner klan who’ve been called out for racism and seemingly rewarded for it, something I’ve experienced first hand with them stalking and trolling me, let’s get into the social media models. In the words of supermodel Stephanie Seymour “the bitches of the moment,” an accurate description. Equally true was former creative director Grace Coddington calling the same ladies out for not being hungry enough, it shows in their work as well as their NASTY personalities.

Kendall Jenner has finagled her way to the highest paid model in the game, despite having the facial structure of the Pilsbury Doughboy. Besides modeling her activities include throwing money in the faces of service staff after not tipping, being involved in politically incorrect ads, creating troll accounts to combat fans who have grown weary of her deadpan face, trash family and pernicious behavior. Both her and bff Hailey Baldwin were called out by a NoBu hostess on TikTok, for being horrific. While Hailey apologized for attentions sake, she and Kendall went to visit the restaurant almost immediately afterwards. Typical.


Speaking of Hailey Baldwin, although attractive is basic by industry standards, with a squat neck and a stout jaw, the proportions of her face are akin to Baby Peanut, which is why she wasn’t booked nearly as much as her contemporaries until her marriage with Justin Bieber. Who unlike her has worked to the point of madness for his art (rehearsals, choreography, vocals, instruments, songwriting, abnormal childhood…), a talent she seems set to ride into the grave with her abhorrent antics. What do you expect from a girl who believes:

“Fame is my family business.” (Grazia Daily 2016)

No ACTING, a skill, is your family business, with Alec Baldwin being the head bitch in charge, the most talented and handsome of the Baldwin brothers. Like most people who seek fame for fames sake, Hailey Baldwin is a duplicitous bully. Another TikToker exposed Baldwin for being the schools resident tormentor. On top of her blocking random fan pages for Selena Gomez (that literally didn’t interact with her) and deactivating her twitter after being called out for shading the multi-talented star with bff Justine Skye (known less for her music and more for being friends with, then getting her man stolen by Kylie Jenner).
“Nobody says Selena,” her partner in crime stated while hitting the gym. Except everyone says Selena when singing along, including Hailey’s husband who stars in the video (posting this exact clip to his instagram, sending users of the platform into a tizzy). You chose to be an option, that’s your fault not hers. Grow up and stop tearing other women down, then crying cruelty when you are not only complicit with racism, but a participant. I unfollowed her and then saw her racist tweets resurface.
I’ve had friends who’ve met Hailey Baldwin at industry events recall her being a mean girl. Having met her father Stephen Baldwin, who was not only sweet, but humble, the apple falls far from the tree, but then again he is a Trump supporter.
Maybe Hailey Baldwin needs notes from doppelganger Camila Morrone, fellow model and longtime girlfriend of academy award winner Leonardo DiCaprio and stepchild of academy award winner Al Pacino (ICONS ), who carries herself like a lady. Morrone seems to know she’s representing their legacies and acts accordingly. Out of the two, she wins the family fame game hands down and yet doesn’t behave like a hateful brat.

Numerous celebrities profit off black culture, Justin Bieber, was one of the FEW to cop to it in response to BLM and deserves better. Yes, he’s been problematic but he’s remorseful and genuinely apologetic about his past indiscretions. In fact people respect how he’s cultivated his craft so much, no one’s called Hailey out. Although he’ll suffer eventually due to her grotesque behavior tarnishing his image, one he’s worked hard to rebuild.

We can’t forget about Bella Hadid, so creepy it gooses my flesh. The sheer nerve of her entitled behavior after pulling a full blown Hannibal Lecter to look like an emaciated Carla Bruni. I mean shit’s weird, you stole an entire face, but want to get defensive and deny the obvious surgery that catapulted your career? How is that deserved and why do you expect us to accommodate your delusion? Oh that’s right, because they still made you the cover photo on Condé Nast’s website. Despite the following:

Bella as usual does the bare minimum (as they all do) from facial expressions, angles, composition, evoking or expressing emotion and storytelling. Irina Shayk hits every single mark: the crook of her neck, the forlorn expression, even her fingers are filled with that je ne sais quoi that can’t be cosmetically enhanced, or bought. And yet Bella got the V Magazine 2021 calendar cover. Bella is the only person who doesn’t deliver in the entire shoot.

“In 2016, it seems the vital ingredients for a successful model are: an A-list surname, a legion of fans on social media and a #squad of famous friends.” (Grazia Daily 2016)

How is this fair? Especially when the public is screaming to use new faces and bring back the artistry? Social media is filled with tributes to models past, because we’ve rolled around in the mud long enough and now it’s time to clean it up.

Rounding it out was Donatella Versace’s lackluster S/S 21 collection, homaging her late brother Gianni Versace’s ready to wear spring 92 collection. The ads were better than the clothes, which is a shame since the same racially problematic people are rocking the black aesthetic, acrylic nails and gold name plates to boot.

The collection is tattered, sloppy, erratic, boobs are just oddly placed and it pales in comparison to what was done in 92, because all that matters is clickbait. The fashion industry seems committed to negligence and favoring the cesspool of personality disorders from entitled, undeserving, immoral, unethical, hypocritical, two-faced, racist brats. Who prove more often than not, privilege breeds mediocrity. And we should just be happy they showed up. Social media has made these girls lazy, falsely believing they’re icons, but quality will always beat quantity in the end.

And as for Anna Wintour, when someone shows you who they are believe them. “More than any other institution, Vogue has defined fashion and beauty for generations of women, and the runway looks encouraged by the London born Ms. Wintour, 70, have trickled down from haute couture houses to fast fashioned retailers and into the hands of everyday consumers. From Manhattan to Hollywood and beyond, she has helped set a standard that has favored white, Eurocentric notions of beauty.” (NYT Edmund Lee)

Wintour and her affiliates in the face of Black Lives Matter and the Storming of Capitol Hill, seem committed to the ways of old. Coco Chanel was a Nazi sympathizer and who did Wintour continue to support? John Galliano after ardent declarations of loving Hitler. In addition to microaggressions and blatant bigotry she, like Donatella and Andre, seems to have jumped the shark creatively. No longer visionaries, they set the bar too high for even them to reach. Once we marveled, now it’s disappointing. Is it that you can’t read the room, or you’re just apathetic? In the pursuit of clickbait their talent’s disappeared.

Maybe it’s time to hit the retirement button before a new flock comes, because if you think you’re untouchable and cannot be swallowed whole, as the Greek Gods did their Titan predecessors (literary license, I know it was the reverse) you are surely mistaken (below is a gallery of receipts, Hailey looked “major” in her Versace ad because she looked like Gisele, except she eats you up side by side).

Anna Wintour: https://www.nytimes.com/2020/10/24/business/media/anna-wintour-vogue-race.html
Bella Hadid Racist Tweets: https://bossip.com/1303421/bella-hadid-racist/

Photos: Vogue (Brasil, Paris, China), Love Advent, Allure, Problematic Fame, Celeb Plastic, Donatella Versace’s Instagram and House Of Dana


Signature Hair

My signature hairstyle is over the top bantu knots, inspired by my rockstar, fellow pisces, fellow Caribbean queen Rihanna.