Genc Jakupi, Naomi Campbell & Jordan Barrett (2/2)

Blacking out wasn’t intentional, finishing the rum punch pitcher was celebratory. Having only seen one functioning relationship in the entirety of my life you’d think I’d be a cynic. Wrong! I’m a sucker for romance and was determined to find my other half. The universe incessantly guided me to find my twin flame, I waited for Genc Jakupi to return. Instead I got word he was dating actress Madalina Ghenea. Flooded with relief that he wasn’t my person, I could finally leave this plantation behind. Minus Serge Becker, the other owners and managers became snide upon the news. See the problem with me, I couldn’t be free if others were oppressed. The disparity in how I was treated versus everyone else made me cringe. I used my power to protect them, which angered my bosses. Sorry not sorry, this was a staff of colored women, almost all of them were products of systemic racism and they were being taken advantage of.
Once at a mandatory meeting we each read aloud from the policy booklet. I kid you not a hostess in her late thirties stumbled over the word “willingness.” Pausing.
“Why’d you stop?”
“I wasn’t sure if I said it right.”
The only two people who could read aloud cohesively were Kelsey, a stout girl with dope, big ass hair, and me (there was a HIGH turnover rate, don’t be offended, you wasn’t there). We had “white” schooling meaning we went to school with predominately white people, meaning we weren’t robbed a proper education, outliers. Foster care and low income neighborhoods limited their access to opportunity. Miss Lily’s in their minds was a step closer to an artistic career. And while I was stoked to be working in a mostly black restaurant where explicit music played, I couldn’t have stood out more. My voice made people forget I was black, or Caribbean, so did some of my experiences. Until Miss Lily’s I honest to God believed everyone who grew up in New York City did coke in tenth grade. Swear. The majority of us were natives.
“You grew up with white people?”
“Yeah,” I also thought diversity thrived.
“Oh that’s why. I never even seen coke. Like cocaine? In real life? Nah I’m good, I’ll stick to weed only. That’s wild. Yo, you’re crazy.” Working here was the most white people they’d been around at once. Causing such psychological segregation some believed in earnest whites were a different species altogether, referencing a YouTube video conspiracy. White people were untrustworthy, demonic, racist, reptilian aliens, dropping into the mountains from spaceships. That’s why they’re so evil. That’s why they’re called caucasian. Deadass not kidding. Growing up multicultural I was the one left to debunk their theories, reminding everyone whites are human too; the people I grew up with are family. Between you and them it’s the latter who’d have my back. Espousing trailer park views from the opposite end of the spectrum is what this was. I was bewildered, my bubble burst, no idea I was in a bubble at all, but aren’t we all until we’re not? Their sentiments were true to their experiences which varied from mine. And yet I was the most woke, due to said chasm in our upbringings. I had knowledge coupled with a sense of entitlement. Yeah, kids left my specialized middle school with drug addictions, they also took buses state to state attending protests and rallies. Activism and community were imprinted in my being. Walking in others shoes only broadens your worldview.

Most of the senior money night girls had slept with the owners, some had both brothers, hoping to marry up. Instead the Jakupi’s would come in the next day with a model, or actress, and make the bedded waitress serve them. How degrading. Those same girls loathed me for receiving perks, down to paid vacation, sans spreading my legs. In Albanian culture women were property, that’s how they’re taught (operative word) to view us.
Detest isn’t a strong enough word, the hatred I accrued for Miss Lily’s was ineffable. Between illegally taking from our tip pool to pay hourly workers, cultural appropriation, the racism, the sexism and unnecessary petty power struggles, waiting for what I believed was true love was why I stayed. Drinking and drugging before, during, and after my shifts was my coping mechanism. I would get shit faced (never made a mistake though impressing everyone, myself included), and that night with his brother was no different.


The last thing I remember is laughing with supermodel Jourdan Dunn. As Lupe the Mexican busboy gave a synopsis of the night, fragments of Friday came to mind.
“You was at the table with Mr. Binn, you and the blonde lady was rubbing on his legs, all over, then you tried to kiss her. She said no I don’t go that way.”
The woman I tried to kiss was Dua Lipa’s mom in front of her dad! I have no recollection of any of it and more than likely I touched his penis. No wonder Binn was acting weird, nice even. I felt bad I led him on, but at the same time there were few people I disliked more. The opposite reaction of everyone else. Turns out Genc was unanimously the meanest owner, everyone was terrified of him. When he showed up the air stiffened, phones went away, spines straightened and silence blanketed those he passed. He was fire you for blinking the wrong way mean, on the spot in front of everyone, permanently banning you from the property. Binn was the nice brother. Except he wasn’t. Duplicitous for sure, his sole purpose was to punish me for making his brother soft. All he wanted was to turn Genc against me. Eventually he succeeded. Part of it was his attraction to me, Genc wouldn’t share like he’s done in the past. With Madalina in the picture he took this drunken forgotten moment as a green light. Furious by the thought of me with his brother Genc breaks up with Madalina, who actually came to lurk me before dating him.
Numerous women came to see who captured his womanizing heart. Madalina Ghenea was breaking her neck from a booth to do so. I caught her, thinking nothing of it since I had no idea who she was, I wondered if she was black or nah, then proceeded to check my phone. As I scrolled through social media and replied to text messages I felt a presence, she was standing next to me.
“Can I help you with something?,” I ask in a perfunctory manner. To be honest she wasn’t in my section, and I was busy making afterwork plans.
“No, just looking,” she stood looking at my phone for five minutes before walking back to her booth. Only when I saw a photo of them together did I remember her.

Enter Jordan Kale Barrett.


Prior to his arrival I’d endeavored for months to get a new job. Weird things kept preventing me from leaving: the open call would start an hour later forcing me to leave for work, it would get cancelled, one time I even ran into Binn and had to about face the interview I was walking into. Bizarre. Try as I might for months the universe wouldn’t allow it. Until Jordan made the brothers angry by hanging out with me for hours, posting me to at least fifteen instagram and snapchat stories. He wanted to have his Chrome Hearts sunglasses launch there. Covetous, Binn came the next day waiting for Jordan’s return. It was under the guise of loyalty to his brother, but it was really for him, prompting a huge blow up between us. My last shift.


“I’ve had ENOUGH!” I screamed. Screamed it, stomping my feet in vexation.
“I’m going to get this place if it’s the last thing I DO!” I bellowed, fucking bellowed pointing my finger towards hell. At that moment I stopped working, ordered food and drank wine, none of it paid for. Ariel who’d clocked out closed the restaurant, as I’d refused. Within 72 hours Miss Lily’s caught a case. I won my lawsuit to their chagrin. I ran that place, I got at leasts six people fired, including the director of operations. My ruling was revered even by the haters, eight people quit in two weeks because of me. They weren’t making as much money, nor did they feel heard. Had Genc not stalked me three years after my termination I legally wouldn’t be allowed to talk about this. But he did until March of this year.

No one believed me until they did. How far did Genc go?

He tapped my phone, broke into my social media and email accounts. He knew where I was, where I was going, who I was talking to.
Which is how he knew I was moving and got one of his old employees from The Box to give me a room. Mallory converted her studio into a room specifically for me. Posting the ad on Craigslist a ton. The apartment was large, two bathrooms, a washer dryer, dishwasher and super cheap. A nutcase, the aspiring singer let it slip when she told me she worked there. She knew Serge Becker too she bragged. “Oh, so you know Genc.” This was a matter of fact. He was one of the owners there, starting out as a doorman, he’s credited for making the place popping. No, she responded quickly without looking me in the eye. Her voice changed an octave. This broad was a bad liar. Made more obvious by the fact that she briefly dated Jono Mason, his close friend and manager there. Weird I thought. Until I overheard her on the phone giving a rundown of my day, everyday. When she moved to California her bff Ace moved in and took over. Just like Binn. In the images below Genc is the Iphone 6s.

Everywhere I worked afterwards Genc sent people: Vashtie, cousins, aunts, employees, to spy on me. Two years after Miss Lily’s I worked at Follia. Nani, my co-worker, invalidates my experience until he starts doing it to her. Despite my urgings (like physically trying to stop her fingers from touching the buttons), she drunkenly rings their doorbell in the middle of the night.
“You shouldn’t have done that. They have an intercom camera,” I warned.
“Who cares? No ones even home,” she claims brimming with arrogance.
“Yeah they are,” dragging her I point to their window where Agron sits on the landline. The very next day it begins. Nani is leaving Le Bain. She orders an Uber. The driver, an Albanian man, starts talking about Miss Lily’s and suggest they go Saturday night to the Soho location. She started getting random friend requests from Albanians. When she’s wrongfully fired from Follia she starts working at Villanelle, a little known restaurant on a side street in Union Square. He sends people there too including Naomi Campbell. Keep this is mind.

We end up meeting a drug dealer who’d dealt for The Box. He revealed himself to be Genc’s enemy, in that moment I decided to have sex with him just to spite Genc. I was furious at all the lies he told. Jordan Barrett, hated me due to whatever fabrications the Jakupi’s told. Taking control of my narrative I made my social media public. Genc had stopped me from getting writing jobs, jobs in general, dates, he was a psycho. If he couldn’t have me no one could.
Once I had lackluster sex with the dealer he got worse. He started paying people not to hire me or Nani. Accommodating her nursing classes she left short staffed Villanelle; guaranteed gigs, places that begged, suddenly shunned her. I’d get callbacks for trainings and never hear from them again. I had to borrow money from my friends when he started interfering in my transition to creative director of events.

Messaging him on instagram I cursed him, elucidating the karma surely coming his way. As an olive branch he sends Naomi Campbell to Villanelle, for Nani to serve her. The next day Naomi Campbell messages me ‘Happy Birthday.’ I’d added my number to her insta rolodex when she added text me to her bio…except…I don’t remember adding my date of birth. More importantly she’d message me throughout the week intimate things. Suspicious I shared my concerns with Mike Brown, my roommate at the time, a correspondent for Full Frontal With Samantha Bee. How did she know my week was terrible? I just messaged my friends that. Genc.


The pandemic was a godsend. I was finally making money after Genc left me in financial despair. Except he then hired someone in the Department Of Labor to re-open a claim from Miss Lily’s from when I sued them. When two claims are open at once they stop paying you. He then made it look like I was committing fraud, getting them to change my answer to yes I rejected a job. The week of Valentines, every year he tortured me on V-Day embittered by his own cowardice. Suddenly I owed nearly three thousand dollars.
Now I’ve called the DOL at that point multiple times and on one call I was sent to a “higher up.” This person never gives there name, never records the conversation and tells me I’m going to be sent something, but not how it’s to be sent, ambiguous and strange. When I call back they fix the issue. Genc didn’t know this, in an attempt to get my banking information he has the hired person send something via text two days after its resolved. Notice the website and phone number discrepancies. The first picture in each is the authentic one.

Mick Jagger, who I was dating at the time, sends someone to speak to him, and finally after five years he leaves me alone. All the crying, mental and emotional distress from someone using their resources to stalk me, a woman who has never dated him, who never spoke to him, who was not his property, finally came to an end. I almost killed myself is how trapped I felt by Genc Jakupi. What kind of life was this to live when someone controlled it? He was a coward and a psycho who felt his behavior was appropriate, because I’m a black woman. A problematic, toxic white male, who used his resources to dehumanize me, I owed him nothing. Still, his brother who started it all by being a malicious liar get’s the most ire.

Naomi Campbell in cahoots with Genc meddles in my relationship with Mick Jagger, causing a rift between us and his children. Pretending to me know she tells people I’m a prostitute who didn’t grow up on the Upper East Side. I’ve met her once in my entire life at Miss Lily’s on a Sunday. Accompanying her was Lenny Kravitz. On Sunday’s we dined royally; devouring stacks of waffles, pancakes, bacon, jerk sausage and fried chicken. Avoiding grease on my face was of the utmost importance. Lenny Kravitz had turned his entire body towards me to watch me do so, peering through his signature shades. Gorgeous, silent and judging me I put my pinky up as I ate. Stoned, this seemed like the proper thing to do.
All the while Naomi struts back and forth erratically. My heart skips entire beats. Am I dreaming? Anyone who knew me KNEW I LIVED for her. I wanted to scream and chase after her, but fan girl-ing was against the rules. Taking my “nonchalant” attitude as an affront Naomi starts low key shading me. Hurt, I almost risk it all, telling her the protocol, after chasing her and tugging at her clothes of course, in a perfect world that was my ideal. Interacting with her at all was a joy. Until she meddled in my love-life to appease Genc. That one interaction showed me her true colors, I firmly believe from experience Naomi Campbell does horrific things. She continued texting me on and off, until I chewed her out for helping white men do dirt. She never messaged me again. The divide she caused between Mick Jagger’s naive children and myself grew. Who I am was in their face had they bothered to look. Living under the safety net of his legacy made them amenable, they aren’t good at judging character, or reading people, despite knowing them for great lengths of time. Their myopic range of experiences kept their bubble intact. However they weren’t the only ones conditioned to write black women off without the benefit of a doubt, not by a long shot. Hollywood runs rampant with racism and revolting behavior from performative activist, black and white alike. If you think your faves give a fuck about adoring fans, let me assure you. They don’t. Let me ask you something, who the fuck are you to invalidate my life with your abysmal stereotypes? Via: Blackbook Mag



Genc Jakupi, Naomi Campbell & Jordan Barrett (1/2)

Negative one hundred and seventy two dollars was the approximate “amount” in my bank account. A haunted apartment in West Harlem led me to a psychic gypsy in the East Village. Biblical warnings kept me away from those types, deemed demonic and unsavory, but I was desperate and scared. Ignoring the paranormal events taking place wasn’t working anymore. Hoping she’d shed some light on wtf I was, I went, my last resort. Psychic Shanna didn’t have a doorknob, you could see straight into her home. She feared no one for a reason. I didn’t know that then, but boy was I about to learn. Once I rendered her services no longer necessary, she placed an evil eye on me. I went from having my own apartment, a well paying job and an internship with artist Maxi Cohen, on the brink of becoming a full time gig, to couch surfing, losing everything down to my cat. The epitome of living on a prayer.

Getting a job became impossible. Thanks to her evil eye only scams came in, one I fell for which is how I ended up owing the bank. I needed money ASAP Rocky and escorting was not an option, I mean it was, but I’m not that type of girl. Serving was my only hope, a path I avoided for two reasons 1) the money was fast, consistent and addictive, I didn’t want to get comfortable 2) there are no margins of error, a simple mistake and someone could DIE; do you realize the weight of waiters? Hello allergies. Also between school and interning, back of house experience was all I had time for before. How hard could the transition be with Danny Meyer on my resume though?
Try super hard and not in the fun way. Without two years NYC serving experience I was met with constant rejection. Miss Lily’s, a tony Caribbean restaurant in Soho, was the only place that took a chance on me. Being hot was their main criteria, they’d teach me everything else.

By the skin of my teeth is how I finished training, there was so much turmoil occurring in my life I wasn’t focused (plus I called out to attend Kylie Jenner’s Galore Magazine party, priorities). Before my final training, the general manager, Krystyna, informed me this was my last shot. Out of my trainers six tables, I was given three to take as my own. Everything was riding on this. Truth be told no one believed I’d make it, just another pretty face on her way to getting cut. Couldn’t open a bottle of wine to save my life at the time, but Jaquana brought in the most tip money that night, by a landslide. We stood in a circle filling out the tip sheet, each of us announcing our earnings. I went last, when I spoke there was silence. Surpassing my trainer by nearly $200 on a slow night might I add, he stared daggers at me. Everyone was astounded. Turns out I had a knack for selling without selling, my specialty was getting people drunk. My liquor sales were unparalleled, I went from working dead nights like Sunday’s and Monday’s, to money nights Thursday, Friday, Saturday. A HUGE deal at Miss Lily’s, there was definitely a hierarchy and favoritism. Money nights weren’t given to just anybody, which left a lot of senior staff who campaigned for years to work those shifts fuming. Emptying pockets was my thing, bringing in the most tip became my niche everywhere I went.

Miss Lily’s was the Studio 54 of restaurants. Answers to questions I ruminated on for ages were answered there. Would Mick Jagger be into me? Would Anna Wintour disapprove of my attire, or person in general? Our regulars were celebrities, supermodel Chanel Iman always sat in my section. Musician Vic Mensa got so use to my service he’d try to pay me even if he ordered from someone else. Like the time he ordered take out from the bar. Mensa searched for then spotted me, sliding his credit card into my hand wordlessly. Confused.
“Why are you giving me this?”
“Ahhh, because you always do it…” he responded equally puzzled.
“Well who did you order with?” He points to the bartender. I instruct him to give her the card. Mensa walks over, looking back at me every other step, like a child being dropped off to pre-school for the first time. I nod giving him reassurance throughout the whole transaction, you’ve got this kid, I believe in you. And it is me he thanks on his way out.

Countless famous patrons poured in, nearly everyday and when Chef Andre won Chopped twice it got bigger. FKA Twigs planned a beautiful birthday for Robert Pattinson, I was their server. Getting hit on also wasn’t unusual for me. I became desensitized, this was the norm. The only time I broke down was when Fabolous came in, he was so swagged out. Nessa, my work wife had to take my table while I cried in the vestibule. Really, out of everyone Fab? My peers ridiculed. For the rest of the night I just looked at him from different areas of the restaurant. Fan girl-ing was a big NO NO, which is why my interactions with Solange, Kelly Rowland and Naomi Campbell were beyond awkward, especially Solange. Mortified was an understatement.

The first time I met Genc Jakupi I had no idea who he was. Wiping down tables in the front I smelled the most alluring scent, searching for the source I found him checking me out on his way upstairs. I thought he was just a neighbor, but the owners lived above the restaurant. Mistakenly I believed this lovely elderly couple, my first friends were the owners, Feride & Agron. They were actually his parents. I found out who he was the night of a blood moon eclipse. There we were patrons and employees alike craning our necks for this most celestial event, when a voice behind us ask “Is anybody working?” The look of fear in my co-workers eyes, pure terror as they scrambled to get back inside. Genc, who had presented himself as nothing short of polite in our small interactions notices I notice. “Relax, relax it was a joke. I was joking,” he adds. Taking one for the team I allow Nessa and Mo to stay outside while I manned the place. Genc didn’t scare me, he made me nervous, but I felt safe with him.

“You’re going to get fired,” Nessa pleaded with me to serve Genc’s table, but I refused! Yes he was in my section, but he was also pretending one of the aerialist from The Box was his girlfriend. He’d been in there with a different woman every time I’d seen him and this one was being super rude to me. He was trying to make me jealous, but all it did was anger me. Nessa, who had the entirety of the front had to come to service his table. He watched irately as I delighted tables with laughter and stellar service. If he fired me he’d never see me again, so he didn’t. Genc’s love for me gave me power (I thought he was my twin flame, he wasn’t). My bosses would be chewing me out, as SOON as he entered they did a 180. It became that he didn’t even need to be there, no one was allowed to disrespect me. Ever. Infuriating his brother, who was left in charge of watching me when Genc moved indefinitely to Europe. His brother watched me like a hawk day and night, night and day. He had it out for me since NYE, when I got wasted on the clock and went to sleep in the front of the packed restaurant. I should have been fired, I didn’t even get a write up. However I was punished. Chiwetel Ejiofor from 12 Years A Slave was one of my tables. They were heading to Future’s concert after party and I was invited. Didn’t get to go for obvious reasons.

Genc moved to Europe indefinitely pretty early in my employment at Miss Lily’s. We never had a conversation, a date, sex, anything, he was use to women throwing themselves at him. I wasn’t that type of woman. Psychic Shanna told me the man I marry takes initiative and ask me out. I keep meeting boys with different faces and this would be how I know I found a man. Genc wasn’t a man. All he did was stalk me and run off potential suitors. His brother ended up falling for me when I blacked out one night. That’s when everything took a turn. Via: Buzzfeed


Use Your Words

Me curb stomping you hoes with my exposé.
Now again, Ed Westwick and his girlfriend racially profiled me (people joined in). Then the Kardashian Jenner West family racially profiled, stalked and did a ton of horrible things to me, because of Stephanie Shephard, the celebrisite (a parasitic person who makes money off their celebrity affiliations, not the quality of their work). The reason Stephanie did it is completely embarrassing for Larry Jackson, her second place consolation prize. Herself as well, she looks an entire fool. Everyone thank her for starting your downfalls and descents into hell, good work sis. Stephanie started this over a boy, despite Larry being successful Stephanie wanted the fame from a Marvel movie star. How does it feel for your lover to start a war and it’s not over you? We’ll have to ask Larry, I wouldn’t know, but he do.

Now during this time I began a relationship with Mick Jagger (my Micheal, my twin flame that I ran away from in 2016 when we met at Miss Lily’s), after writing happy birthday on his wall in 2020 and kept it secret. I wanted to see Hollywood’s finest true colors, are you really about black lives matters? And what I found was satanism/black magic and the reality of the illuminati. What they didn’t count on is being exposed, because Melanie Hamrick another black magic user, can’t stop being a desperate liar to save her life. So people believed her made up stories, despite Mick never posting her. Now his kids happen to be friends with a bunch of evil people, which I called out, as they partook in profiling me. Angry, Mick’s children endangered themselves in an effort to spite us (by not respecting his choices, even though that bubble they live in is courtesy of his legacy, and that he did not want Melanie, who voodooed him in his life), only for me to be right…again. Living in a homogenous bubble with limited experiences, can leave people naive and unable to read the nature of one’s intention and character, even when it’s right in front of your face, butt ass naked, screaming what they are.
It also didn’t help when Naomi Campbell lied to everyone pretending she knows me. When the truth is she was doing work for Genc Jakupi, a womanzier who became obsessed with me. This is why eyes were on me in the first place. Genc was my former boss at a well known celebrity hotspot and the definition of toxic masculinity.

Just a quick outline of events.

And I didn’t even leave New York City, because an interesting life comes from interesting people, not what you’re doing. And believing someone blindly, without doing research is dangerous and shows a level of stupidity that can get you killed. But why were they so quick to believe in the worst of me? For many reasons, but mainly because I am a black woman and they treated me as such. The lesser gender, the lesser race. Too bad those are all lies and I’m more powerful than you all combined, as you can see. And now I’m going to teach people their place. Karma always wins, so do I. As for those watching, how good at you at assessing intentions and character? Do you question everything, like a critical thinker, or do you follow the herd like a sheep? Artist: Gabbois

A Taste Of Part One

Where the story begins. I worked at Miss Lily’s in 2015 and Genc Jakupi is one of the owners. As a private person I was forced to make my social media public, because he was spreading lies about me. I never dated this man. I never spoke to this man beyond a few sentences. Yet he’s stalked me up until March of this year: breaking into my social media accounts, getting his friends and family to lie, breaking into my email, setting me up in an apartment to be watched, sending people to my work place, including Vashtie and preventing me from getting jobs amongst other things.

In 2016 I met Michael there, we made eye contact and I ran away, the runner in our twin flame connection. I never felt anything like that before. It scared me. And yet after complaining about Genc for years no one did anything to stop him, except for Mick. After a solid five years of him using his millions to stalk me, then my friend, causing ptsd. I am grateful Mick put up with all of my distress and finally got this psycho to leave me alone. This is just a teaser, a taste of part one, which will include Naomi Campbell and Jordan Barrett. As the story builds more and more celebrities get involved. Are you ready for one of the craziest stories in Hollywood and of your life? Via: Black Book Mag


The Trinity

Coined by legendary photographer Steven Meisel, The Trinity is composed of Naomi Campbell, Christy Turlington and Linda Evangelista. The three were considered the Holy Grail of supermodels during it’s most iconic period, from the 80’s to the 90’s. An epoch of the profession that is immortalized and unmatched. Natural beauties that set the bar for all who came after. ICONIC. Which Trinity member is your weekend spirit animal? Photos: Peter Lindbergh, Linda Evangelista, Christy Turlington & Flawless Aesthetics

Diversity Quota Met

Tokenism: The practice of making only a perfunctory or symbolic effort to do a particular thing, especially by recruiting a small number of people from underrepresented groups in order to give the appearance of sexual or racial equality within a workforce. Via: Date With Versace, I Am Aquina Del Tiempo & Vogue Archives

Fix Your Lipstick Before…

You wish this legend a happy birthday. Heading into the weekend optimistic, filled with joy and still alleviating stress with a cute drink. Be grateful for every new day met, nothing is promised. Getting older is a gift you get if you’re fortunate enough. Via: Glamour UK

Smoking Kills Cigarette Aesthetic

Sixth time was the charm. I finally quit when I didn’t keep track. As cool as it looks, especially in Europe, these poison sticks are bad for your health and skin. Now is a good time to stop, since coronavirus attacks the respiratory system. Once when meditating I heard the mucous built up in my lungs and knew the jig was up. I also watched my grandmother get her leg amputated due to a lifetime of smoking, that fucked up her circulation. Your body is a temple treat it as such. Respect it. Do you need to quit smoking? Vaping sucks too. Photos: Dreams Never Lie Chico, Fashion Wonderer, London Street Art, Empire 90s, Goddamn 333 & Nenthe

No Filter With Naomi Campbell

Naomi Campbell launched her YouTube series and her first guest was Cindy Crawford. A great way to know your favorite celebrities on an intimate level. My favorite so far is her interview with Marc Jacobs. The level of art history and iconography he possesses, the fact that they both have so much integrity, to sacrifice for their artistic careers, because being famous for being famous is so vapid. True innovators who will leave a legacy worth cherishing behind. In this world of influencers and celebrisites (a word I made up and will expound on) it was a refreshing reminder of true talent. To know how much Marc Jacobs suffered for his artistry, taking risk and getting fired from Perry Ellis signals to artist, stay true to yourself, endure your hardships and you will persevere. Thank you both for illuminating the lives of so many and confirming there are levels to this shit. Photo: Lumiere Naturelle

Supermodel 101: Naomi Campbell

Few people have experienced such loss as Naomi Campbell. Working with every major fashion house from the 80’s on, she’s had to suffer through the suicide of Alexander McQueen, the murder of Gianni Versace and the death of Azzedine Alaia (tips of the icebergs). Still she’s endured. This woman taught me how to drag people to the library to get read. Her career is nothing short of iconic, 1/3 of “The Trinity” (which will get a tribute later), in countless music videos from Michael Jackson, Jay-Z, Madonna to George Michaels, her infamous feud with fellow supermodel Tyra Banks, the level of major she’s been in court (this fee is an insult to my wealth… I really don’t want to be here right now, but I’m forced to be so…), that model competition show where she read that girl to tears and the other judges, just an astounding career from a formidable woman. She can throw a phone at me anytime. Naomi Campbell’s walk is so acclaimed that even her falls (Vivienne Westwood) are major. Thank you for showing us how to kill the game. What I’ve learned from her the most, is know your worth and put people in their place if they try you. Photos: Naomi’s Insta