"A transition in season. A transition in my life. A transition in my look. Fitting to wear black because it's the funeral to the old me."
Crop Top - MANGO // Shorts - Staple Pigeon // Tiffany Kunz Arc Collar Bronze - Alekka // Flora Chelsea Boots - Dr. Martens
A transition in season. A transition in my life. A transition in my look. Fitting to wear black because it's the funeral to the old me. Black isn't always the most occupied color in my Summer and Spring wardrobe. Once the colder air blows into New York City, you will most likely catch me in all black or dark tones only. Unless, I'm wearing all white or all denim. Exceptions are always necessary. I become more minimal, more layered, and all cozy. Transitions are always my favorite, especially if you're conscious enough to know when it's happening instead of piecing it together once it's done. The comfort of age is that you have figured out who you are and who you want to be. Or at least most of it. There's little second guessing.
I know who my friends are. I know what my style is evolving to. I know what I want to order at the bar - a vodka soda, please. I know who I want to go home to every night. I know what I want to do right this second, tomorrow, next week, and in three months. I know where I belong, right in my city. I know how I want to spend my nights, either working or sitting with a hookah pipe in my hand and a pretty face across from me. I'm not the only one changing. Changing to find themselves and their identity. Changing so rapidly, they can't even recognize their own change. I can feel the city moving. The uncomfortable and easily retrograde-blaming ups and downs from my friends, from my acquaintances, and strangers. I haven't escaped the retrograde and side-effects of transitioning. Yes, I've even flipped out on people from my own frustration. If I had to pinpoint these frustrations, I would look at you with a lull face. I remember walking home from the gym after these amateur trainers told me I couldn't work out because they were open for another 29 minutes. I rolled my eyes and told myself this wasn't worth a fight. But the poor sucker that followed me a block home got the worst of it. Let's overlook the fact that he was following me and could possibly kill me. He tried to get my attention by asking me for the time. I gave him the benefit of the doubt and sternly gave him the time - "five forty-five". He continued to fight for my attention. This poor sucker had no idea the anger that sat inside my belly. I looked at him and flipped out so much that I out-crazied him. Yes, I was so crazy that it scared a crazy person. He quickly walked away from me, arguably dashed away from me. This was 6 days ago. And I'm laughing at it since then. But, you know, this all has a place. I'm happy to be here. In this crazy mess. I'm welcoming this change and embracing it. It's a beautiful and dark time. "I'm wit it."