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    Lynn Kim Do

    Lynn Kim Do may be the first fashionista to define and coin the term Neckbreakin’ Style but she is certainly not the only person that this term encompasses. Lynn takes inspiration from the street, from the mundane and thus her extraordinary everyday experiences, and presents it rawly along with visuals and personal style. This is a platform beyond personal style. It is a space of personal experiences. Lynn Do creates a platform that curates her very honest, sometimes too honest, stories called "Street Talk" with style that is also uniquely raw. Having footprints all over the United States, her view of fashion can not be defined by one location or even one style except one - streetwear. She believes in minimal and clean streetwear without losing all the attitude and sass with it. Her visual and production expertise has accumulated many highly recognized repertoire of projects with clients like Revlon and Urban Outfitters. She has been featured on Nylon.com, The New York Times, and WWD to name a few. If you ask her though, her biggest personal achievement is surviving a year lease in a six floor walk-up NYC apartment.

    Small Victories









    As of late, our losses seem larger than our victories. But our victories sure taste so so sweet, giving me the impression that we got this. That a small trickle of change can infect the world. Much like it affects me. My heart swells for Charlottesville. It swells just as big when news came in from Boston. It swells differently. It hurts and swells. It loves and swells much similarly nonetheless.  And my posts generally aim at solving some sort of issue, seeking some sort of solution, whether personal, fashionable, or political. But I can see that am I am typing this, this post will not be that. I can’t think much of anything else but our current world affair. And if the media has been trying to make me jaded (Black Mirror, my god!) then it’s slowly winning. It is a post of open wounds. Of a season that began without me, a sleepiness that fell over me. And I feel hopeless, but I feel hopeful grasping at small but very apparent strong ends. I can’t say that I can find the source of this feeling in one occasion, one instance, one memory, but it feels uncomfortable. But strangely, it all doesn’t feel bad. The world sends me comforts in signs, like the ones held in the hands of the protesters against the “Free Speech” rally.  And I know we’ll be okay. Because we must be okay. But not if we’re lazy. United, we will be okay.











    As of late, our losses seem larger than our victories. But our victories sure taste so so sweet, giving me the impression that we got this. That a small trickle of change can infect the world. Much like it affects me. My heart swells for Charlottesville. It swells just as big when news came in from Boston. It swells differently. It hurts and swells. It loves and swells much similarly nonetheless.  And my posts generally aim at solving some sort of issue, seeking some sort of solution, whether personal, fashionable, or political. But I can see that am I am typing this, this post will not be that. I can’t think much of anything else but our current world affair. And if the media has been trying to make me jaded (Black Mirror, my god!) then it’s slowly winning. It is a post of open wounds. Of a season that began without me, a sleepiness that fell over me. And I feel hopeless, but I feel hopeful grasping at small but very apparent strong ends. I can’t say that I can find the source of this feeling in one occasion, one instance, one memory, but it feels uncomfortable. But strangely, it all doesn’t feel bad. The world sends me comforts in signs, like the ones held in the hands of the protesters against the “Free Speech” rally.  And I know we’ll be okay. Because we must be okay. But not if we’re lazy. United, we will be okay.



    . August 21, 2017 .