autumn

Blogvember #14: Le Fro and Le Chapeau.

I’m quite happy to inform you that I bought a chapeau (hat) this weekend. Of course, discovering that le fro (also referred to as She) could handle hats isn’t new; I discussed that wonderful revelation here. And yet those reservations about hats and fros and large heads don’t entirely go away, do they? We need to constantly remind ourselves, we in the Big Head Society, that it’ll be ok: hats will fit.

While shopping with the bestie this past Saturday, I saw my new hat and I instantly wanted to try it on. That was the clue that it was meant to be mine. But that still didn’t stop me from muttering to the bestie that it likely wouldn’t fit. Try it on anyway, she replied, as she busied herself with perusing the sea of scarves in the aisle she was in. Shrugging, I reached for it, secured it atop my twist-out, and headed to find a mirror. Before I reached said mirror, Bestie was already gushing that it was beautiful. When I finally saw it, you guys…

The chicness. Oh, the chicness of it all. And that color. Even better: the ole noggin didn’t feel like an unknown object had taken up unlawful space there. Very comfortable. I also loved how little peeks of my coils were visible. As I said before: I made it mine. Naturally, for the rest of the day, my new chapeau became the centerpiece of several admiring selfies. (Because why not?)

By the way, I’m wearing Oh-So Wicked lipstick by Rimmel in these photos. Since autumn is here, I’ve been adding darker shades in between my tried and true red lippie. Don’t you love the variety of it all?

Anyway, bienvenue, mon chapeau…

(Are you a hat wearer? What are your favorite styles? Give up the goods…)

Blogvember #7: Oh, am I blushing?

I think the last time I wore blush was sometime in my late teens when I officially got the green light from the Moms to start wearing makeup. Since my abundance of teen magazines provided everything from makeup tips to how to get that guy to notice you (no comment), I basically put everything on my face. Blush, mascara, eyeliner–yes, everything. Thank goodness for time and figuring out what actually worked for me. One thing I decided to part with was blush. My melanin didn’t respond well to it; I rarely found colors and shades that worked. So bye bye, blush.

Just recently, however, as I sauntered through the halls of YouTube university, I saw a video by one of the natural hair ladies that I follow; she was sharing her fall makeup routine. When she topped her applied makeup with blush, I paused for a bit. Hmm. We have similar skin tones, I said to myself. Can it be? Can you actually wear blush? Apart from the fact that yes, I speak to myself like a character from Shakespeare (can it be? Why, forsooth, yes it can), I loved how the blush complimented her lovely skin. And quite simply, the color she chose (Black Rasperry by Black Radiance) communicated what I was doing wrong back in the day: I was choosing colors too close to my skin tone, in the fear that a too-bright shade would turn me in your neighborhood clown. But staying in the plum/raspberry family seemed doable. After perusing a thousand stores for Black Radiance products (which have always been good to me), I finally found the Artisan Color Baked Blush in Raspberry. I wore it last night to my house of worship. See below.

Needless to say, I fell in love with my blush last night. I thought it was a wonderful blend of understated and lovely, providing a pop of color to my face that I really liked. So it’s a keeper, ladies and gents. Makeup is all about adventure and experimenting, no? I declare this latest addition a winner.

While we’re at it, here’s a full-length view of what I wore:

The necklace was a gift from the bestie, the blouse from Ross, and the high-waisted African print skirt was sewed by my talented Mama. Very pleased with the overall look.

So you out there: are you a blusher? What are your favorite brands?

November 7, 2016 3

This Square Peg: Redux.

Happy first day of November, party people. Did that greeting seem unexcited and blah? Well, blah is the operative word. I posted my feelings about November back on November 1, 2015. Re-posted below for your reading pleasure. Enjoy the redux.

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Blahvember?

Ever since I fell in love with autumn (since 1986 when we stepped foot on American soil and I experienced my first fall, in case you were wondering), I’ve wondered about November.

What is this month that pales in comparison to October, my favorite month? It doesn’t have the roaring engines of September, when fall begins. It certainly doesn’t have the romance/je ne sais quoi and ego-inflating that I associate with October (it is the month in which I was born, hence the mild inflation of my ego when I remind my mother that her life’s purpose was realized when her eldest child was born). And by December, I’ve forgotten all about fall and begin the dreading of winter. So, essentially, November is the stepping stone between wonder and dread. The head-scratching interruption. The red-headed stepchild of the fall season.

All that said, I’m officially making an effort not to do November wrong like this anymore. And, hey, I’ve always had a place in my heart for gingers and forgotten stepchildren. So this November:

I resolve not to long for October. Much.
I resolve not to side-eye a month as if it were the pesky seat-dweller next to me on the train who is determined to squeeze me in until I stop breathing.
I resolve to do fun things during Blahvember–I mean November, such as weekend trips to see the fall leaves (even though, let’s face it, November means they begin to lose their vibrant colors, but whatever), spending much-needed time with friends (not complaining about dulling leaves), and eating all kinds of pumpkin-related pastries because it’s still fall. Thanks, November! (Even though my belly doesn’t thank you, but whatever.)
I resolve to remember that November (you’re welcome for that rhyme) actually holds dreaded December at bay for several days, so this is good. Kind of like a moat around my castle. Wait. Did medieval marauding bands really find watery ditches all that intimidating? Don’t answer that.

And so, dearest November, you will suffer from my irritated and/or apathetic regard no longer. I will change the parameters of our uninspiring, tedious relationship. If it’s the last thing I do. Unless something else comes up. Anyway, I wanted to leave you with an inspiring quote about November, but–there weren’t any.

Happy November…

November 1, 2016 3

Fabu Fashion Round-Up: Elevator Runways

Hi there. You know about my new job. Prior to starting last week, I did a bit of shopping for some new wears, being that a number of my things were mostly ill-fitting and above all, I wanted to start nice and fresh for this new environment. I hit up Sears (seriously, their business-y stuff is awesome) and my boyfriend Ross for some pants, blouses, a new blazer, etc. Good finds. So when I arrived at the office last week: lo and behold, dear reader, the elevator taking me to my floor was filled with mirrors. (Yes, there were a few stars in my eyes following that discovery.) No more bathroom selfies for us, honey. And so courtesy of said mirrors, shown below are my office fashion choices from last week. I missed Thursday for reasons these gray streaks in my fro won’t allow me to remember.

Day 1, aka Blurry Monroe: I snapped a quick pic, which explains the blurriness. Anyway, I went with your basic pantsuit. But that blouse gave me life. Have I told you that I love (no, love) tie-neck blouses??? Here’s a close-up.

Was drawn to the long tie, the sea of colors, the simplicity. One of my Sears finds. More tie-necks will be had, that’s for sure. (That’s my new bathroom by the way. That pose, however, isn’t new.)

Day 2, aka Thigh Goals: “thigh goals” was the comment a friend captioned this when I posted the outfit on IG. I blushed and laughed and silently thanked my mum and all those squats. Anywho, still basic, still simple: blouse, blazer, pants. However, you’ll notice the scarf and the plastic bag. Inside the bag was my newly purchased space heater. Combined with said scarf, I came to battle, determined to beat the North wind blowing through my workspace.

Day 3, aka Autumn Surprise: the weather forecasted for that day was significantly cool for the Dallas area, very fall-like and autumn-y. So I gleefully pulled out my beloved turtleneck and sweater and wore them to the office. A few co-workers raised their eyebrows. No comment.

Day 5, aka Casual Friyay: I was told almost 100 times to remember that jeans were fine for casual Friyays, and so I obeyed. My tried and true skinny jeans with an animal print blouse that you can’t see and that long sweater. The yellow scarf topped it off, along with ankle booties that you also can’t see.

That’s all she wore. Oh, my hair: as you can see, straight for two days–following a much-needed trim–and then blissfully back to twist-outs and updos by the end of the week.

What fashions are you sporting lately? Is your office occupied by the same North wind as mine?

October 19, 2016 2

Les Poèmes.

Autumn: Brevity

I pull open the doors for you,
my intermittent love,
eager to greet you with the cool kisses of yet another season.
It does not bother me that you arrive once a year bearing your all-consuming brevity.
It does not trouble me that I compete with the other colors in your world.

When did hopeless beggars have the power of choice?

You are mine.
Whether orange moons or darkened afternoons–
whether burnished leaves or hearts exposed on long sleeves–
You are mine.
Cloak me with the fleeting warmth of your love and affection and
disregard what errant tears you may see from me,
for we have so little time.

The Ally

Softly, that fallen eyelash resting underneath
your lovely eye calls out for my touch.
It urges my fingers to gently brush it away as
I send it on a whirling journey to the ground,
a satisfying ending for this tiny friend that
sacrificed itself so that I could replace its
tenure on your skin.
Because I think the eyelash knew,
you see, the longing I had to rest my fingers
there, underneath your eye, my warm touch
communicating what my frightened heart
had been unable to say for so, so long.

November 4, 2015 0

Blahvember?

Ever since I fell in love with autumn (since 1986 when we stepped foot on American soil and I experienced my first fall, in case you were wondering), I’ve wondered about November.

All that said, I’m officially making an effort not to do November wrong like this anymore. And, hey, I’ve always had a place in my heart for gingers and forgotten stepchildren. So this November:

I resolve not to long for October. Much.
I resolve not to side-eye a month as if it were the pesky seat-dweller next to me on the train who is determined to squeeze me in until I stop breathing.
I resolve to do fun things during Blahvember–I mean November, such as weekend trips to see the fall leaves (even though, let’s face it, November means they begin to lose their vibrant colors, but whatever), spending much-needed time with friends (not complaining about dulling leaves), and eating all kinds of pumpkin-related pastries because it’s still fall. Thanks, November! (Even though my belly doesn’t thank you, but whatever.)
I resolve to remember that November (you’re welcome for that rhyme) actually holds dreaded December at bay for several days, so this is good. Kind of like a moat around my castle. Wait. Did medieval marauding bands really find watery ditches all that intimidating? Don’t answer that.

Happy November…

November 1, 2015 2

Blogtober (Redux and Late) #31: Regrets or Nah?

Never mind that it’s November 1. I meant to post my final entry for Blogtober yesterday, but life. Let’s pretend it’s yesterday.

Thank you for supporting this year’s bloggery effort despite the 16-day wifi-related snafu that occurred in the middle. Thank you for everyone that liked a post, followed my little blog this month, left comments. Thank you for reading my travel-themed posts about a journey that I’m still thinking about and ruminating over.

Because he’s right, you know. Bourdain captured exactly what I felt during my two weeks away. (And really, for every time I’ve boarded a plane toward a new experience, a new adventure.) I experienced moments this past trip that no camera captured. Moments when I was so stressed out that I wanted to shed tears. Moments that had me scratching my head and poised to scratch out a few pair of eyes. There were times when I wanted to find a ticket and just go back home. Times when my mind and soul ached for the warmth of my comfort zone.

But you know what I’ll next say: all of it, the good, the bad, the weird, left those marks on my memory, my consciousness, and my body. And I’ll take them all. I’ll accept learning more about my myself. I’ll accept understanding that I have personal boundaries that not even I will cross. I’ll accept that when I travel again, some things will be done differently and some things will stay absolutely the same. Yeah, my heart was broken during this trip. But my heart also sang. So I regret nothing. Not a thing.

Here’s to the next adventure, the next Blogtober, and everything in between.

November 1, 2015 0

Blogtober (Redux) #30: Mind the Gap.

I heard it so many times while riding the Tube that I began to long for it: the soothing, Brit-accented automaton telling me to please mind the gap between the train and the platform. What a kind reminder, huh? To keep me from falling to my death? I’d like to challenge my local public transportation here to do the same. Or perhaps I should challenge them to go a day without a breaking down? Ugh.

I miss London.

October 30, 2015 4

Blogtober (Redux) #29: Packing Lessons

Admittedly, I don’t have much panache (or patience) when it comes to packing for trips. Maybe the process reminds me too much of moving, which I once did three times in a year and nearly had to report to a your neighborhood mental health hospital to recuperate from the stress of it all. Maybe it’s because I can’t stand trying to figure just what to pack, where to put it, how to organize my life…All right, let’s not go there.

Anyway, as you can imagine, I dreaded packing for my 16-day trip overseas, so much so that I waited until the night before I was scheduled to fly out of town. But I should have feared nothing.

Because my sister was going to handle it.

Let me introduce you to my little sissy: organized, organized, neat, and organized. She’s always been that way. Years and years ago when we shared a bedroom, her side of the room was like Switzerland. Neat, lovely, like a postcard. My side of the room was Chernobyl. So when she heard me bemoaning the packing I was about to do, she calmly told me that she would take care of everything. As I stood by my closet, she divided her tasks into types: I was to hand her shoes, skirts, pants, tops, any sweaters, etc. I then watched as she expertly positioned these things into my suitcase, calmly dismissing my doubts that everything would fit, waving away my claims that one suitcase wouldn’t hold everything. (I was determined to take one bag that would hold most of my things.) She was right. Everything fit, you guys. Everything. I was mesmerized. And ultimately terrified of unpacking it all and ruining her art. (I should mention here that she’s an actual artist, so it’s no surprise that the inside of my luggage looked like a painting.) Needless to say, her fast and precise packing abilities had us finished much earlier than expected, which allowed everyone in my household to go to sleep peacefully without hearing me loudly sobbing in the next room because of everything I had to roll and smash into a bag.

So I had my medium-sized/kind of large suitcase ready, as well as my carry-on bag that I was planned to use for any souvenirs that I purchased. But let me tell you why I will never take a medium-sized/kind of large suitcase overseas, or really anywhere, ever again:

I have no upper body strength. I was reminded of this especially in London when I had to hoist that bag up and down flights of stairs all over the London Underground (short of the escalators that take you out of the stations, there are stairs, stairs, and more stairs) the day I arrived. (Again, my friend who hosted me didn’t have a car.) It nearly brought me to tears. So although thankful for all the gentlemen who helped me, I am resolved to travel from now on with a small, carry-on type suitcase that can be easily lifted by yours truly. I mean, unless the gents really want to help me out, which will, uh, pose no problems for me.
Speaking of a small, carry-on type suitcase: I packed way too much for this trip. My sissy’s expert packing is more than appreciated, but in hindsight, I didn’t need all those clothes. Sure, I like variety and having the ability to choose what I want to wear, but quite a few of those outfits remained right in the bag during my trip, unworn. So yeah, for the foreseeable future: some pants, a few tops, and that’s it. Stop trying to be super cute, Square Peg. (Mildly cute will do.)

So major lesson learned: pack light.

Oh, and you travel lovers out there: got any packing tips to share?

October 29, 2015 0

This Square Peg.

Happily Not Fitting In Since 1978.

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Blogvember #14: Le Fro and Le Chapeau.

Blogvember #7: Oh, am I blushing?

This Square Peg: Redux.

Fabu Fashion Round-Up: Elevator Runways

Les Poèmes.

Blahvember?

Blogtober (Redux and Late) #31: Regrets or Nah?

Blogtober (Redux) #30: Mind the Gap.

Blogtober (Redux) #29: Packing Lessons

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