Ask and you shall receive.

On this Easter Eve (one of my favorite manufactured holidays due to the parade of pastels (not manufactured as in Jesus didn't really roll a big ole rock from some rando cave in the Middle East because he did and has the muscles to prove it)), after multiple prodding from muses, friends, besties, mentors, and anonymous commentators at TheFashionBomb.com, I'm coming out of the closet:  my closet, the most fashionable closet I know.


I have come against major style adversity since moving to the suburbs of Boringville, Virginia.  There are people in sweatpants everywhere!  Nobody knows about gold silk jumpsuits from 1978!  Triangle dress tents are popular!  Am I really the only one wearing a gigantic bow on my head?  It's not an afro it's just big!  It's no biggie though, really.  I will continue wearing iridescent, emerald green party dresses from the 1950s with leopard print pumps to my defense corporation job.  


This is not about fashion.  It's about personal style and all of the wonderful things I find hunting in musty thrift stores and strange little antique stores like the Iron Horse in Manassas, Virginia where I found a decorative plate from 1975 with an antebellum-era quadroon on it.  Yes.  A quadroon.  I always find the good stuff.  Ok ok I bought it because she looks like me and I needed something more fancy than a mirror in which to place perfumes.  Don't expect updates everyday, for I am a hustler; I have two jobs because the dreamkiller/realist that is Dad will not pay for my necessities like fur capelets and white, velvet, tufted headboards.  Kanye shrug.

 Oh, and as for the title?  I'm from Charleston, South Carolina.  Never really owned it until I moved to Seoul, South Korea in 2008.