Another kind of post

I want a mermaid

speaking about going crazy

I have been thinking about

mermaids lately.
but I can't place them

properly in my 

mind.

one problem that bothers

me

is where are their sexual

organs located?

do they use toilet paper?

and can they stand

on their flipper

while frying bacon and

eggs?

I think 

I'd like a mermaid

to love.

sometimes in the supermarket

I see crabs and baby

octopi

and I think, well,

I could feed her that.

but how would I pack her
around at the racetrack?

I get my things and then
push my cart to the
check-out stand.
"how are you today?" she asks.
"o.k.," I say.
she has a
market uniform
flat shoes
earrings
a little cap
pantyhose.

she rings up my
purchases. I know
where her sexual organs
are located as
I look out the
plate glass window
and wait.


By Bukowski
From: 
what matters most is how well you walk through the fire. 



Pictures:
1) Unknown on tumblr
2) Christopher Shannon SS '14
3) CR Fashionbook, Doves FW '13

B0dY H41R

By Neslihan 

Can we please talk about the girls with the frizzy hair and the little tummies. The ones with red spots on their face and the little pimples on their chin. Can we please stop acting like they don't excist. Hey media, hey advertisement, yes, you're the guilty ones. Hello girls, who impose themselves impossible beauty ideals, while in fact embracing your own pure natual self would've been a whole lot easier and healthier even. I know, I know, it's a quite corny, yet necessary subject and saying things is of course easier than doing them because we're talking about decades of imprinting and dogmata. It is not easy, I know. It is not easy to reject the ideal media are actually presenting you because it somehow is easier to accept that that is right and to hate on yourself in the meantime. If you could just be realistic and finally understand that those picture perfect girls and boys are total fiction. Photoshop aint a recent invention but that's something I shouldn't tell you 'cause you've heard it all before. So let me actually start talking about the ACTUAL subject of this post. I WANT TO TALK ABOUT BODY HAIR. Well, I think that was clear...
I'm a girl with black thick hair and I am proud of my heritage. It is my proud, my priority. And yes, this is vain and superficial but we all are. And that was an 'argumentum ad populum'. Suck on that, philosophy! My eyebrows are full and thick and really obvious and those are the times when I actually embrace my DNA. But then come the days on which the little hairs on my upper lip get visible, I call them my 'whiskers' and will from now on refer to them as my whiskers in this blogpost. And those are the days I totallay loathe my DNA. On those days I just wished I had da blond DNA, you know, for the easiness of it, hell yes. But no, I wouldn't wanna miss the fabulous portion Indian hair, so we'll have to deal with the body hair.
Removing it is an option and it often is the only option and if it's not then it still is. I mean just think of the pictures on which Julia Roberts flawlessly sports her armpits and gets shamed for it. It instantly became a gimmick. Or think of Gwyneth Paltrow talking about her body hair, it caused a fucking shock in 2013. We act like we're liberal and really open-minded but we can't even tolerate a dash of fluff on some body parts, even if they are not ours. We just refuse to see it in public because it's 'provoactive' and a bald puss isn't? I just don't understand why this creates such a huge debate. I was always told to do whatever I liked with my body. It was mine and I was the boss and I don't even know why I'm using the past tense. I AM THE FUCKING BOSS. I'll grow my leg hair if I want to and it is none of your icky picky business. And if you ask me why I have a 'black carpet' on my legs, I'll ask you just the same, Mister. "Well -haha- 'cause I am a man, you see."
- And I am a mammal if you'll let me.

Because Kristen McMenamy is always flawless.

A Letter to the Royal Academy

By Neslihan

Dear Academy,
Before you end your 50th birthday, I'd like to tell you a thing or two. You've been celebrating your glorious birthday which was filled with appreciation, inspiration and aspiration. Something like: "We've been doing well but we'd like to do better in the future." You've had Ackermann and Van Noten as your pupils and now they've all reached that point in which they could teach YOU a couple things. You're seen as this unaccessible ice queen who has shot herself in this fireproof iron tower and this reputation is most likely accurate. You're an institution, a royal household even (hence Royal Academy). You produce the fashion elite in this country and even beyond since we're 8th in the 'Top 50 Fashion Schools in the World' ranking. Do you even know what that means? It means, you, dear Academy, have gained the monopoly over fashion designing. Not bad for a country as big as Louis XIV 's backyard. (This one is total exaggeration but I'm tryina make a sketch for you *wink*) And during your birthday you've had uncountable eulogies, including an amazing retrospective looking back on your iconic history. And it is worth a retrospective, I must say. But here is the actual reason of my blogging. I've had a quite emotional conversation with this girl, who studied fashion design at KASK (your little brother in Ghent) but after a time she had had a couple of bad experiences in her private life and she had to quit studying because she was suffering from a total inspiration block. She had to put everything in order before she could start designing again. She put her aspiration on hold and decided to study Art History. This is completely theoretical and this doesn't entirely feed her aesthetics. She's constantly drowning in inspiration again but she can't live it up. Because it's too expensive, too cold and too exhausting to start all over again. And we all know how exclusive those academies are. She also told me about the amount of foreign designers in such academies and I think that's a pity. Because whe should be focussing on our own talents, who are truly waiting to be discovered. The Royal Academy and every other Fashion Academy should be a platform for young starting designers who want to add something to the fashion world. What they're suffering now is constant unappreciation and rejection. We should open our arms and educate them because they've got so much to show us. Artists who are studying to actually become one (this sounds so weird) have always encountered difficulties in terms of funding and scholarships. Let me explain. Take a history student for example, she's applying for a scholarship and she could easily get one. But when it comes to designers they have to have their own funds. Everything they invest comes from their own savings. I don't know whether we have funds here in Belgium for studying artists, there is so much ambiguity surrounding the topic. And I'd like to know more about it as I'll keep my eyes on you, dear Academy.
Happy birthday once more.

For the retrospective: http://www.momu.be/tentoonstellingen/nu_in_het_momu/
For more info: http://hbda.be/new/nl/activiteiten/antwerp-icons

PS I know how cliché this Antwerp Six picture is but it's so great.
PPS I'm sorry for the unstructured rambling.

Like a queen

By Neslihan

Another failed collage to draw the picture for you. Once in a lifetime you come across a collection that makes your heart pound faster and gets you hyperventilating. The funny thing actually is that you've never quite thought that those reactions might be possible since you're the queen of Lazytown and glamour is a unique event. You were fine before this collection appeared. You were completely ok with your black skinnies and awkward teen tee. But Valentino made you realize there was more to life than just comfort and here you are daydreaming of dresses you might never wear. I feel like long rich fabrics are ideal for fall because they have this unforced elegance thing. Imagine wearing such a dress for a stroll through the forest. The wind moves the layers of your dress in all kinds of directions and you're the only person there. You're feeling great though because this is where you belong. It's shivers and happiness all over the place. And just talking about it, I realize how much I've missed those little strolls through forests when I was a kid. It was all about collecting leaves and jumping on piles of wood. It was all about freezing and your mom telling you "ZIP YOUR JACKET!!!" Oh man, how I miss those carefree days.But let's get back on track, let's get back to Valentino, baby! The spring/summer 2014 collection is just divine. I'm talking about 70's embroidery galore and deep oranges to accompany that 70's vibe. It's a mix between handcrafted tradition and modern bohemia. There is also something amazingly historical about this collection, it just reminded be of 15th-16th century queens flawlessy descending to our times. And I am in love because I can totally see myself doing some groceries in that emerald green dress. Lul, just joking I'd just wear it at home and cherish and (over)protect it for the rest of my livez.

A manual for former losers

By Neslihan

She is your best friend. A true style icon. Perfection at its best, even with its flaws -how cliché this might sound. Her presence, her elegance truly have this impact on the crowd. Just standing in her aura makes you a better person. She's this glorified human being and you're a nobody. She's Regina George, you're Cady Heron. She's Pipi Langkous, you're Annika. She's Beyonce, you're  Michelle.

Thought this was funny and completely irrelevant at the same time.

We all have been through this, whether it was as a Beyonce or a Michelle. It doesn't often feel like someone (in this case Beyonce) is standing in your spotlight. This kind of friendships become something that can be best described as a c-r-u-s-h. It's not purely romantic, there is something platonic about it. The way she dresses or makes herself noted just always leave you in disbelief. How does she do it? Oh mighty queen, reveal your secret. Well, here comes the break-through, SHE HAS NO. Or maybe one -buckle your seatbelts for the biggest cliché in the world- confidence. It's predictible yet obvious. Your mind is connected to your fabulous body and the other way around. It's simple: you feel bad, you look bad. It's perfectly balanced interaction or it usually is.
First step: break your chains. I'm not talking about actual chains but I'm talking about leaving your 'Oh-you-almighty-goddes-cult'. As soon as you realize that she's just a human being who doesn't poop shiny rainbows, you'll see how ridiculous it actually was to be all over her shit (poop joke n°2, u guyz!). I think worshipping someone else than yourself or Florence Welch is a complete and tremendous waste of time. It's like someone else taking selfies with your phone. Hey loser, I don't want any other pictures than my own ones!!! You've got to fill up that vacuum with a lot of narcissism, almost acceptable cockiness.
Second step: wear what you want to wear. Don't be like: "Omg X has worn this already." Be like: "It would fit me better." Try things you've never dared trying before because it was taboo or an inaccessible area. Do wear pink on Fridays or jeans on Mondays and Tuesdays because you are making your own rules. Here comes the 'be your own Regina George' bullshit. Be fearless, be a kind bitch, which basically means your being radically quirky but nice to other people at the same time. Okay, yes kindness doesn't save the world, but nor does your sass.
Third step: another 'Cover Girl' motto- be true to who you are. Don't wear metalic trousers if you hate shine and shimmer. Don't dye your hair blond if you've always mocked blondes. Just don't turn into a completely other person. Because that's called schizophrenia and will be dealt with in another post.
Thanks for your reading.
And good luck, loser!

Jean Luc Godard
(This is the ideology)

Devon Aoki for Numéro

Source unknown, found on tumblr

Léa Seydoux for ID

Uma Thurman in Pulp Fiction

bck 2 skool

By Neslihan
It's actually crazy to realize how things can alter this quickly. I'm going through some huge changes in my life right now. Firstly summer is officially O-V-E-R. This means no bare legs (but fuck it), not shaving your legs (god bless) and the end of that sweet feeling of eternity (cry). Another thing is actually about me moving into another student flat due to some problems with my previous owner. And the last change is probably the biggest one: I'M STARTING UNIVERSITY, U GUYZ! I decided to study History since I'm really into it and since I aspire to become a real life encyclopedia. I'm looking forward to start my studies and I truly want to be fully drawn to it. Some friends who already go to uni have warned me that I will regret this very, very soon but what do they know, GOSH. (Arrogance should be seen as a virtue by the way.)
But let's talk about the end of summer. I mean it is my favourite season. I just love the "let's put on a sheer fabric and some pink clogs" kind of vibe. Of course I don't wear clogs, wish I had a pair of clogs and/or guts to pull that look off. But hey, I will get there. Aren't you the cutest thing everrr? I love the sun burning in my neck, not very fond of the incessant sweating and pasta pesto kind of smell when I do so but I love to eat strawberries in the local park and feel like I'm some kind of new wave hippie. And I know how self-centered this all sounds but that really is the purpose of my blog. Sorry, you don't feel it. What does cheer me up about this horrifying change of seasons is actually the fact that I can shop for a new, cosy coat. I guess everything has a 'bright' side except for killing your cat. (I'm sorry for this sadistic joke. I totally love cats) Here are a couple unaffordable models. Cry with me please.

It's 10 PM and I'm expected at the office. I run a huge fashion magazine and this Dior beauty is a gift since Raf and I aren't only fellow citizens but also BFs. I enter the building, get into the elevator and slam my coat on my assistant's desk. Very Miranda Priestly and a crazy fantasy of mine.

I feel like fake fur is the ultimate garment to wear to an haute couture fashion show and I do attend a lot of fashion shows since I'm the editor in chief. I wear this one to Van Noten's haute couture show because what's better than wearing his furry to his show? I love this one because it has the needed elegance but it also has this urban feel to it. Perfect for a stroll through Central Parc.

I wear Marni's dégradé coat to a rendez-vous at a Parisian café. My toyboy, who's also a model, and I are having a café latté and we talk about how crazy Marc (Jacobs DU-UH) actually is. My scarlet red lipstick stains on the coffee cup and we light up a cigarette. And Edith Piaf's 'La Foule' plays as we're about to kiss. Oh, all them clichés.

My girlfriends and I have decided to eat out at a super chique restaurant. You know, the one where you can personally order you 50$-burger (shamelessly decadent, I know). It's snowing outside and my toes are actually freezing in my bare toe Chanel pumps but my wool Prada coat is all I need to keep me warm.

This is my not-so-daily-daily coat. I wear it to gallery openings and movie premieres but also when I buy a bouqet of peonies at the local bio market. It's also the one, which appeals the most to me because of its manly fit and outstanding cut. Stella McCartney has actually designed this specially for me.

You're not buying this but neither am I. I'll stick to H&M or Zara due to my financial status 
:((()))

Pictures: style.com

Superbia

By Neslihan
I never got why vanity or pride was a sin. I mean what's better than a great dose of self-loving or should I say self-glorification. And vanity was never as accurate as in our digital age. Facebook, Blogger, Instagram, Vine, Tumblr: it's all about justifying your extreme pride. Hey, look at me! Look at what I'm doing! Look at what I wear! Like me, hype me, love me! It has never been more present than this.

I remember growing up having rolemodels. I worshipped The Spice Girls and Jennifer Lopez must have been my style icon at the age of 6. I wanted to dress, walk and talk like her. I would buy a bunch of teen magazines and try to copy her style and 'If you had my love' was on repeat. I would lipsing to it as I'd flawlessly whip my hair back and forth. Those were the carefree days. I couldn't care less what my outfit looked like. I would be dressed in red from head to toe and I stood behind my decisions because I was confident about my colour comboes. I didn't care less about other's opinions and in some strange kind of way I still don't but something has changed along the road.

I'm still rocking my ugly shoe philosophy but I've given up looking like a colouring book. And whenever I do, I try to be the fashionable counterpart of it. To me dressing up is not about being on trend (but I find myself being a trendwhore more often) but about being true to yourself. I'd never wear something that doesn't follow my aesthetics. But somehow I've lost my rolemodels and I've become my own icon. I don't know whether that is sad or pathetic but I'm quite enjoying it. I used to be the rules kind of girl, you know the Trinny and Susannah kind of rules. 'What not to wear' but I've gradually let go of that theory since I believe you can even rock a sack of potatoes as long as you're wearing the right kind of shoes. And since I've let go of those stupid rules I feel freer.

It's about creativity and an authentic style because there's only one you. And who motivates you better than yourself? YOU know what you want to look like. YOU know where this is all going. That's why YOU are your ultimate manager. You've got to hype yourself, believe the image and expand your horizons (your closet in this case). Because that's what's fun about dressing up: it is temporary and you can shift styles like that. You don't have to stick to one kind of uniform. Keep all your options open and don't limit yourself because to limit is to kill your creativity.

There must be a way to praise yourself though because you want to show you're confident and unique. And that's when all those profiles on social networks jump in. Instagram or should I say Selfiegram is all about promoting your life. Food pictures, OOTDs, pictures of your friends and you partying. Look at the fabulous life I'm living! Doesn't this also sounds really Kanye'esque to you?
You have become your own Scary Spice or Jennifer Lopez. Whenever I feel uninspired for example I turn to my blog and I know that sounds vain but that's how I relive the inspiration. It feels as if I sometimes need to remind myself of my fashion believes, which changes monthly. And I think that's good because that's how you become more critical. I'm not a rooted tree, I am a feather in the breeze, who's being pushed into all kinds of directions and I let that breeze lead me. I trust it because I know the journey is all that counts at the end. I don't travel through this fashion spectrum in order to reach my destination. I travel for the journey.

All pictures found on tumblr.