The Seamstress.

I'm spoiled rotten. I am. You see, whenever I see photos of lovely dresses and skirts and outfits, particularly with African fashion, I just head over to my mom's room, bat my medium-sized eyelashes (why do boys get long eyelashes? Can someone explain this to me?), and sweetly ask if she can recreate the look. After …

because it’s Wednesday.

Oh, hello. Have we met before? Only in my dreams, you say? I suppose you're right. Maybe we can discuss turning those dreams into reality? That villa in Italy won't be the same without you. (By the way, you're buying us a villa in Italy.) Happy Wednesday, party people. He's mine. Onwards and upwards...

Meanwhile, in Paris…

...I don't know what it is about Parisian doors. Maybe it's the promise of all the macarons that await me inside? Could it be the handsome homme who awaits me inside, armed with the yummy crepes that he made me for brunch? Or maybe it's the lovely architecture of the les portes themselves, so artistic and majestic and ready to …

Fall in Love.

I've talked about body image/self image on here more times I can link or number. It's an important thing to me. Having struggled for so, so long with a dangerous, damaging view of myself and my physical body (there was quite some mental/emotional toxicity going on, too), and having crossed to that other side where …