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  • Lynn Kim Do

    Lynn Kim Do

    there's nothing to hide and no one to hide from, especially yourself










    If morning coffees are a necessity, late afternoon lattes are just desperate tears of sanity. I'm sure I just stirred up a mix reaction with that last sentence. Some are like "Bitch, you need help," which I wouldn't complete argue against. While others had just read it over and didn't even flinch. Because to them, like me, we understand the very natural New York order of things. Shit, we've been through it together. (Whether we were actually together or metaphorically in this shithole together) The over twelve hour days in the office when I can no longer put propers words together to form real sentences. And the color swatches all begin to look alike. And all of a sudden, the way my coworker's nasally exhales begins to annoy the crap out of me, which it never had in the last 8 months we worked working together. When I am two threads away from breaking sanity, being held together by cold burritos and stale coffee beans. When alcohol felt like my friend the night before but then it stabs me in the back the next morning, and then again at 2pm, and then 6pm. And let's not talk about the late late night Redbulls. Fuck.

    I repeat, "I don't have a problem."

    Visuals by Amina



    . February 28, 2017 .

    Late Afternoon Lattes

    . February 28, 2017 .










    If morning coffees are a necessity, late afternoon lattes are just desperate tears of sanity. I'm sure I just stirred up a mix reaction with that last sentence. Some are like "Bitch, you need help," which I wouldn't complete argue against. While others had just read it over and didn't even flinch. Because to them, like me, we understand the very natural New York order of things. Shit, we've been through it together. (Whether we were actually together or metaphorically in this shithole together) The over twelve hour days in the office when I can no longer put propers words together to form real sentences. And the color swatches all begin to look alike. And all of a sudden, the way my coworker's nasally exhales begins to annoy the crap out of me, which it never had in the last 8 months we worked working together. When I am two threads away from breaking sanity, being held together by cold burritos and stale coffee beans. When alcohol felt like my friend the night before but then it stabs me in the back the next morning, and then again at 2pm, and then 6pm. And let's not talk about the late late night Redbulls. Fuck.

    I repeat, "I don't have a problem."

    Visuals by Amina



    . February 23, 2017 .









    There are two kinds of people – ones that find every excuse to live miserably in disorder and ones that find something quite nice about disorder. And let me break it to you, disorder will never cease to exist in your life. And as I get older, I seem to see more and more of the first kind. But I know it’s not because of my city. The city of chaotic, frantic, anxiety-inducing, often smelly, but oh boy, is it filled with dreams. Perhaps, it comes with age. Perhaps, it’s my industry.  So then these people, who are so damn miserable and so damn condescending, I find them eventually congregating with one another. I guess it’s so they feel a little less alone. A little less miserable. Their miserable-like traits hitting many small nerves in my body. I’m cringing. Like tiny shards of glass inserting themselves nice and comfortably in the pores of my fingertips. And I can’t seem to remove them. I pick and I poke. And it erks my existence until I forget about it. After all, it is quite tiny. And it will go away. And I will be quite fine. I will be fine until it happens again. And the process starts all over again. Or worse, I break down and become meaningless, absolutely annoying shards myself. Oh, no. You see my concern here.

    So I would hate to leave this conversation without an actual solution or conclusion. And I’m so compelled to write this because I have decision that friendship isn’t worth my sanity and my own worth. And I can’t carry shards in my hands and I’ve had enough. So here is the solution – Recognize who chooses to be miserable around you, stay at a safe distance from those who carry shards, preserve your own fondness for disorder. Don’t let them turn you.


    . February 21, 2017 .





    He touched my fingertips, stroking my fingernails delicately like he was stroking petals on a rose. Like if he touched it too hard, it would fall off. With no hopes of ever puttng it back. Nor had he any intentions to.

    I'm his delicate flower. His precious beautiful babe. Who talks in her sleep. Who lives in a constant state of hangry. Who is more often annoying than funny. Or sexy. Or cute.

    - his

    . February 17, 2017 .







    When I first started to plan my outfits for NYFW, the last thing on my mind was comfort. It was a small sacrifice for "fashun." As the days went by, one by one, I started to lose feelings on my toes and my body felt like it was just getting hit with constant torturous wind burns. This all black outfit was me just giving up. I couldn't do it anymore. I couldn't think about a creative outfit. Or so I thought. Black...easy. More black...even easier. I did not plan this like I had planned the others. It was more practical than fashionable. But surprisingly enough, it was everyone's favorite. Landing on WWD was just further affirmation and a big delicious high five. Moral of the story is: Comfort comes through sometimes. Or maybe all the time. 

    More fishnet love & other favorites here.


    Visuals by Van
    Wearing:
    Coat - Ralf Wileman
    Crop Turtleneck - Zara (similar)
    Men Track Pants - Nike (similar)
    Ankle Boots - Top Shop (similar)


    . February 15, 2017 .










    Two days away from the finale of NYFW FW17 and I have about 78% of NYFW stamina left in me. Luckily, I'm not solo in those feelings. Luckily, I had my fashion friend in crime to push me (or at least, make me feel less FOMO when I do choose sleep over fashion). And luckily, I have a good grasp in reality and a heavy understanding of "this-is-not-the-end-of-the-world." So yeah, some days I am strutting with a hot pal (HEY MAI) in one arm and 5 inch heels on my feet for 10 hour days aka Superhuman. Other times, I'm in sweat pants, slippers, and stuffing a whole box of pre-Valentine's day chocolate...all to myself. But let's be real, even Superman is Clark Kent most of his life.

    Visuals by Thaya
    Wearing:
    Cape - Vintage 
    Pants - Zara
    Shoes - Zara

    . February 13, 2017 .









    Maybe I've been slightly inspired by Valentine's Day. And if that is in fact true, this will also be the farthest I will go for Valentine's Day which also conveniently lands on NYFW this year. Luckily, my boyfriend and I aren't huge hallmark suckers. So no, we have no reservations made. There are no huge gifts, plans, expectations, leading to disappointments, frustration, and tighter wallets. No, thank you! What we have decided to do on the official day of love is to start a brand new tradition. We're going to get drunk. Yes, you read that correctly. We gonna get crunk. I'm hoping it gets sloppy. I'm ensuring that there will be dancing, swearing, sweat, and a reckless decision here and there. We are going to take shots while everyone else eats overpriced oysters. We are going to call a new dive bar every hour our home while others wait two hours to get in a restaurant. We are going to stuff our faces with dollar pizzas while peopler working on the one of 15 courses of plates. I am perfectly content with coming back from the bathroom after downing a Long Island Ice Tea (ehhhh, maybe a Vodka Soda instead) with barely-open-eyes, slightly poor eyesight, rose tinted everything, flushed cheeks to recognize the shape of his gorgeous face and say, "Do you come here often?" I am also perfectly content with sitting side by side with my man, Micheladas in each hand, people watching couples in the bar guessing their A.S.L and just about everything else. And then somewhere in all of this, there shall be ice cream.

    This is Valentine's Day.

    Visuals by Karina Munoz
    Wearing:
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    . February 10, 2017 .











    You know I couldn't help myself. You know I had to ditch the pants. You should know me better by now. But over-the-knee boots and fishnets are great replacement, too, right? LOL! Yeah, I shook my head too as I reread that last sentence.

    NYFW FW17 is here and while my mind is still in a faraway place aka Barbados. I am running around like a dead fish (appropriate in fish nets) to see some shows, gain some major inspo, and share  my experience at NYFW with you. So follow my Instagram daily and you'll see some shenanigans.

    P.S: Dig the Daniel Wellington watch? Or maybe you need a Valentine's Day gift asap (aka yesterday), use LYNNKIMDO for 15% off your order.

    Visuals by Daniela Spector
    Wearing:




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    . February 7, 2017 .























    1. They invented twerking here.  It’s called "the walk up" 
    2. Cou cou is their official national dish.  
    3. Mac Pie is their unofficial national dish and a must try. (Also try their Fried fish and pretty much any fish fishes.) 
    4. Don't bother getting a currency exchange. They actually prefer American bills. The currency exchange is about 2 Barbados dollars per 1 American dollar, so it’s almost dumb-proof but may not be drunk-proof.  
    5. Tipping is expected from Americans. I suggest 15-20% at restaurants, $1 American dollar per drink at a bar, $5-10 American dollars per person for tour guides, and not absolutely necessary for taxis 
    6. Taxis are very safe. Always ask the price (open to negotiation by 5-10 Barbados dollars), although they are quite fair and honest. 
    7.  Don't wear camo. Camo is illegal for civilians to wear. (But camo bikinis are forgivable apparently...) 
    8. Reggae rules this island. 
    9. Oistins is BOMB on Friday's. But quiet all other days. Order the Dolphin - Mahi Mahi at Pat's. 
    10. They did not kill slipper.  Dolphin - Mahi Mahi is not really dolphin.  
    11. Harrison Cave is the 8th world wonder.  I encourage taking the time to go.  
    12. Monkeys at the Wild Reserve are selfish little things (and worth going to see along with turtles, deer, rabbits, and more.) 
    13. They export all their sugar to Europe. Like all. They import inferior sugar to use themselves. (And this makes sense...) 
    14. Mount Gay rum is made here. And yes, I drank an obscene amount of Rum Punch. 
    15. But I drank more Banks beer than I could actually withstand. And I can keep going tbh 
    16. The food here is expensive AF! Competitively and probably more pricier than NYC. But their drinks are pennies. Balance 
    17. They walk on the left here. And drive.  
    18. Demographic: 60% Sassy Bajuns, 20% retirees, 10% post-brexits citizens, 5% Canadians, and 5% everyone else 
    19. They have Chattle Homes and Chattle Villages, which are pretty cool because they were built and created to easily transport. I guess they were the small homes before small homes. (Backstory: Chattle Homes were necessary when slaves had to move from one plantation to the next, so they needed something easily to transport and collapsible.) 
    20. Top three beach: Dover, Carlisle beach, Accra beach. (Bonus: Bathsheba for surfing only) 
    21. Barbados is the only island on the Caribbean created by 2 tectonic plates colliding and has zero volcanoes. 
    22. They're also very religious which means Sunday's will not be lit. 
    23.  Their hot sauce is the best. Period. I almost smuggled it home. And no, it’s not red. It’s yellow.  
    24.  Saint Lawrence Gap is the spot that will make anyone—your grandma, your bougie friend, your cheap cousin, your hard-to-please boyfriend—happy, no matter their definition of the perfect evening. From live music, 90s music, and reggae to fancy restaurants and chill spots. 
    25. The people of Barbados are named Bajun. (Not barbadians—in fact, that’s not a word)
    Visuals by Momma-Do & I
    Wearing:

    . February 5, 2017 .











    United States is a hot mess.
    I am in the 11th hour of an extensive project..unfinished.
    I haven't slept.
    I haven't prepared for NYFW.
    I've barely seen anyone I cared about.

    So the only reasonable thing to do in this moment is to run away. To escape.

    I know, I know. Maybe "reasonable" isn't exactly the right word. Maybe it's "I-wanna-fucking-leave-so-I'm-going-to-do-whatever-the-fuck-I-want." It's a stretch. I do like that word better. Okay, maybe it's not a word. It's a feeling. Yes, it's a feeling. And maybe that's a scapegoat, but in efforts of my practice of being kinder to myself, why should I make up an explanation at all?

    First off, who the hell goes to Barbados. Now, I know more people that went to Bermuda, to Nepal, and even to Alaska than those who went to Barbados. I know one thing about Barbados—Rihanna. Let Barbados be the place to set the standard in badassness. But my hopes are high. So let me do this for you, for me, and more importantly, for my mom (who is on her first trip outside of her two home countries—United States and Vietnam). I will give you Barbados through my eyes. Let’s start with Dover Beach and my new favorite swimwear rn.


    . February 1, 2017 .









    I’m not the kind of girl that follows normative style of life. With that in mind, sometimes my ideas work out and sometimes they horribly fail, like that one time I wore a babydoll slip dress with cut-out tights and a blazer. Yup. For the “Best Dressed” photo in my class’ yearbook. I am still praying that this early 2000s trend comes back, so I can justify myself to my later kin.

    Other times, it magically comes together. For instance, I paired this lingerie one piece with pants-like joggers and to top it all of—a men’s jacket. Sounds like a mess. Until it’s not. Until it’s fucking amazing. Then not following life’s guidelines become absolutely worth it.

    Visuals by Tina
    Wearing:








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