2015: Lessons Learned

*These quotes represent everything 2015 has taught me. I hope 2016 comes with more lessons, experiences and thought provoking changes.

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Personal 

"I want to have a spontaneous, passionate and crazy life that's worth telling."

"Consider becoming the type of energy that no matter where you go or where you are, you always add value to the spaces and lives of those around you."

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Love

"You've got to stop asking everyone for their opinions. Fuck it. Love yourself, kiddo. You've got to love yourself."


"Spend so much time improving yourself that you have no time left to criticise others. Be too big for worry and too noble for anger."


"Being a true badass has no weight or gender requirement - just 100% commitment to greatness."


"So you plant your own garden and decorate your own soul, instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers."

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Success 

"If your success is not on your own terms, if it looks good to the world but does not feel good in your heart, it is not success at all."


"Effort won't betray you."


 "Great things take time."


 "You are allowed to outgrow people."

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Superficiality 

"Laugh at the men who tell you you're pretty. You are more than that."

"Be independent, interesting, idealistic, kind, opinionated, original, funny - a thousand things, before pretty."

"The best things in life aren't things."

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Mood | Gone Girl

She never existed in this world. Even when sitting on trains and walking down busy streets. She was either reading a book or listening to some form of audio. She lived in a world of pure fiction and it thrilled her, for reality was bleak. Muddy and tasteless. However she found nothing mundane. She was intrigued by everything and everyone around her.  Forming stories and lives for each person that she encountered - to suit her mood of content of course. 

Layla was a girl she met in Bible studies. With loving parents and a budding career. Layla was a drug addict who sold her body for money.  

Jason didn't run a high class brothel for a living. No, Jason was into cars. Therefore he sold and bought cars.

Pastor Gibbons was a kind man who was involved with plenty of charities. Pastor Gibbons just got back from jail after a 10 year sentence for child molestation. 

But to ruin Jane's idealistic world of perfection would be tragic. 

"No. Not today, Mother"

"No. Not today, friend."

"No. Not today, Satan."

For the most part she found solace in solidarity. She wished to be on her own because people to her - REAL people were cancerous. They were lies, and heartbreak and deceit. They ruined everything. They did not know how to control their words. Why listen? What good would that do to her world of content? No good. So she buried her head in books and songs that whooshed her away to another world. 

She didn't believe in wearing nice clothes or brushing her hair.  There was no happiness to be found in superficial beauty. Just pain. Just critics. Just people who talked about things that didn't matter. 

Sitting in her uniformed beige pants and t-shirt, she stared out of the window of her beige room. A knock on the door. 

"Are you ready for your medication Jane?" 

She stared at the woman blankly. Medication. As if she needed them. She created her own happiness. She was the mastermind behind her own life. She didn't need the meds. She. Needed. To. Be. Left. Alone.

So she screamed :  a shrilling sound of utter madness. Until the nurse backed away, shutting the door to the outside world.

They thought she was mad. They thought she was crazy. She thought THEY were crazy. She laughed at THEY. There was nothing more beautiful than a world full of imaginary peace. Chaos... No chaos  led to unimaginable pain. And the real world? The real world was chaos. 

Classe | Dear Karl

Dear Karl, 

I wish for you to teach me a thing or two about real elegance. Not the type flaunted on TV and magazine covers. I mean archaic, old fashioned elegance. And then I would like you to teach me how to morph it into something of the next generation without loss of quality. 

Quality - such a precious yet rare thing found into today's world, but for you quality flows through your veins. You read books and paint art. You sleep in only white sheets and enjoy complete solidarity. You let the art do the talking commercial or not. You are mysterious but so very charming. You don't think outside of the box. There is no such thing as that. Instead you draw new boxes and find a way for people to want to hop from one box to yours. You own fashion. It's taken me  while to learn why it's taken you so long to brig out your brand. You've built great brands like Chanel, Fendi and now your own brand. What fashion house or magazine exactly does not require the Karl Lagerfeld input? Always a head of the game you are but never one to state it. I have only one nickname for you: 

Chameleon. 

Karl  Kids

We sit around reading books and drinking coffee from wine glasses. It'll be the thing of the future.  You know the thing. The thing you absolutely must do. Running on alcohol seems the thing of the 90s. Coffee is the new drug. Dressed in the whitest button down shirt. No jewellery. And NO blogger hats. Just a pair of ox blood Oxfords. Straight short hair and minimal makeup. There is no beauty in coloured-in eyebrows. Pinstriped tights and a tight leather skirt to match, I don't care to do much but to live life to the fullest. Not for pure enjoyment alone but for the purpose of creation. At dusk we attend the coolest parties. Dancing the night away. Meeting several different people to establish the new aesthetic. Walking home light headed from the music. Not alcohol. Alcohol dulls the mind and there is nothing worse than a mind that cannot be put to good use at dawn.

"Like poetry, fashion does not state anything. It merely suggests."

- Karl Lagerfeld. 

Dreams of | Italy

(Img source: Tumblr) 

Italians. They have good taste in everything. Wine, cheese, pasta, gelato, style, art, music and books. With their dark features and seductive culture, they simply stun the world into oblivion.  If I was to be born again, I would wish to come back as an Italian. Preferably with curly black hair and an alluring sexy accent.  Perhaps as a gallery owner somewhere in Florence capturing the hearts of the new generation of romantics. Maybe as a business guru in Milan. I'd own  a fruit and vegetable market, working from early morning until dusk. Exchanging life stories with neighbouring markets and retiring to a cosy home with just the right bottle of Pinot Grigio. How about Venice? I think I'd spend my days imitating Nancy Drew on the quest to finding out what really happened to that worshipped  painter from the late 50s. Boat rides and a compass Google Maps (because new generation) would be  a part of my aesthetic.   Then there is Rome, I'd return as a common tourist to  relive the lives of those who lived before me. The memories that lie in the cracks of the colosseum and the stories that could only be told by ancient locals. To hear Italian - not to understand it - but to feel a part of it for a second or two, pretending that everything that is said could only be made up of the most charming dialogue.  

Life | Late Nights

I promised myself that I would post something new at least 15 times this month. Today is the 22nd of December and I can admit that I am slacking a little bit but all for good reason. For me to write consistently on this site, I need to stop for a minute and live outside of the bubble of social media so that I can come back with new ideas, new experiences and sometimes a new perspective. That's exactly what I attempted to do in the last seven days. 

I spent a lot of time hanging with family, Facebook calling my sister who lives in the UK, jump rope sessions with my brother to get our hearts racing as we watched the moon disappear behind the fog several times only to reappear 5 seconds later (magic?), drinking a stupendous amount of wine with old friends and new friends.

Remember when I said I couldn't find my old self? Well she reappeared this week. Bold, daring, unashamed, unafraid. The girl who has fun because it's literally in her DNA. Staying up late staring at the ceiling with my hand on my racing heart. Why is my heart racing in the middle of the night? Why am I even awake? Do I sleep? No. I just dream out loud.

Do you ever get a feeling that something REALLY good is about to happen and you don't know how to even deal with the thought? So your heart races in anticipation. You're energetic and all of a sudden you're being goofy and silly. Taking nothing seriously except living. Content with what you have, not seeking anything more but knowing you're about to receive more anyway. It feels great and I feel grateful. If you're friends with me on snapchat, you'll notice how silly I'm being - taking countless selfies/videos. I'm trying to distract myself. I am anxious and excited and I do not know how to contain it. It's ridiculous. Ridiculously good. 

Wow this sounds so badly written but can you feel that? My excitement is taking over and I don't care if this isn't written in perfect grammar. I don't care if there are spelling mistakes (I do) or if a full stop is missing somewhere. 

I have no desire to be perfect so I do crazy things and reflect on them later. Imperfect but always willing to learn, cheerful but also melancholic. 

Impatient, satirical and critical but I'll never get rid of those aspects - it wouldn't work out. I wouldn't be me.

My Tumblr Accounts

1. Diamants au chocolat

2. Kilimanjaro Stars

3. Prettified Allure

Dreams of | Manhattan

Polluted wafts of air . Tattered walls and buildings we call art. An intoxicating atmosphere that pulls you into the midst of something you've never experienced before. This isn't real life. This is Manhattan: the island of grimy dreams. 

Drunk on the views, the lifestyle, the people. The waiters will flirt with you and  so will men in Armani. They'll ask for your hand in marriage but you'll politely decline because psychopaths wear suits too. You'll work 17 hours a day, exercise for one hour, lunch for 2 and sleep for 4. Rockefeller is your goal. 

You'll make friends easily and keep them around because everybody has something to offer in New York. You'll never be overdressed and when you are, they'll treat you like Kate Moss. You'll spend money you don't have with time you don't have. 

Your old life will never again feel like your old life. You'll learn and you'll flourish in a city full of grime that glitters. This is new. This is the truth. 

My Tumblr Accounts
1. Diamants au chocolat
2. Kilimanjaro Stars

Mood | Cafe Rendez-vous

On entering the Starbucks cafe on Broadway, Addison slipped her Dior sunglasses over her head. Her eyes were proof of tiredness but she didn't want to be that person - you know, the one who speaks to people with their bloody sunglasses on. The click of her Manolo heels echoed across the room as she made her way over to the counter in a tight turtle neck dress and a tweed Chanel blazer. It was a Sunday afternoon and if this wasn't New York City, the stares would be endless. Addison didn't mind though - she dressed according to mood and right now she was in the mood to make money. 

At just 26, Addison was the founder and CEO of a high tech productivity app. She had been working on the app for 8 years with a couple of her engineer friends before it caught the eye of the big guys in Silicon Valley. Addison smiled coyly at the memory as she placed her laptop on one of the rounded coffee tables.
Can you imagine their faces when they realised that she was a girl? Sexist pigs - every single one of them but getting the 100 million dollar investment was like taking candy from a baby. They loved her - not enough of the smile, the legs and the certainty in her voice when she declared to them at a networking party that she stole the idea from her boyfriend after he cheated on her. She didn't- it was all hers but Addison was adept to playing the game. 

On hearing the sound of the door open, she looked up. Before her was a man in beige slacks and a denim shirt. Sandy blonde hair, dark green eyes and a light stubble. An iPad in one hand and an iPhone in the other.  Staring intensely at his phone before approaching the counter, Addison wondered what that was about. An email or a text from a soon to be ex lover? She knew what kind of guy he was just by looking at him - oh yes - egotistical and a proud money making machine.

Or was that who she was?

Putting aside her people watching habit, Addison got back to her research.

There was a business conference tomorrow morning exclusive to the top 10 Alpha startups in Santa Clara. She planned on taking the first flight out.

Julian stared at his phone for a long 10 seconds. There was no fucking way they were going through with that deal. Why was Ian even bringing it up again? As the two cofounders of their gaming app he knows how hard they've worked to get to where they are today. Julian feared for his business partner. There was a difference between taking risks and being stupid.
He was not about to lose everything for a friend who was great at networking and drinking scotch but not much else. With a steady 45 million dollars coming in this year in revenues, Julian was confident about the future. Maybe it was time he finally bought him out once and for all.

Julian looked up from his phone only to notice a young girl with black hair and a lazy smile. She held a newspaper in her hands. He didn't understand why she was staring at him but she was pretty. 'The rich kid of a movie star in expensive Chanel' kind of pretty. She didn't look like she was complicated. Yes, that seemed fitting. If he didn't have to get back to his office so quickly, he would stay and strike up a conversation. 

But there was a business conference tomorrow morning exclusive to the top 10 Alpha startups in Santa Clara. He planned on taking the first flight out.

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Tumblr Accounts:
1. Diamants au chocolat
2. Kilimanjaro Stars