Inspiration Returns

For the past few weeks, I’ve felt a lack of inspiration in my life. School seems to have taken every bit of life out of me, which has resulted in putting the magic of my mind aside to make room for the brain power needed in completing intense academic tasks (such as the fifteen page Media Law exam that I’m still trying to recover from). For those of you who have been reading my blog, I apologize for the lack of updates and will try to get back in to the flow of consistently updating.

Fortunately, my inspiration returned last Monday night.  I had been listening to classical music for hours before I finally decided to go to sleep. It was around 1am and I was so tired that I honestly thought something was wrong with me. “What is this strange sensation that has come over me? Why do my eyelids want to keep closing? Am I sick? Am I experiencing the odd effects of allergies again? Am I having some sort of supernatural experience? Have I gone Mad?” After a few minutes of debating with my delusional self, I remembered the whole idea of sleeping and concluded that sleep is what I needed.  I crawled into my more than uncomfortable bed (equipped with springs on the verge of popping out cutting me while I sleep), but was able to drift off into a deep and interesting slumber.

When I had awoken the next morning, I felt as if the dead batteries in my body had been charged and I was finally back to my strange and unusual self.  Although physically I was in my bed that night, my soul was in an entirely different realm of existence. That night I returned to a place I have visited frequently, yet have never been. A place I consider another home, yet have no connections or roots. If you guessed anyplace other than Russia, you obviously don’t know me very well.  That night I was in Russia, a place in which many of my dreams seem to take place. I’ve always had a fascination with Russian culture, and that fascination has only increased as the years progress and the dreams seem to happen more frequently.

This dream took place in Moscow, to be specific. I was overlooking the Moscow skyline through the window of an apartment. I wanted desperately to go into the city, but my mom said no. I would continually check the view out the window and think about how wonderful it would be to wander around the city. But when night had fallen, the entire city disappeared. The disappearance of the city wasn’t replaced by the darkness of the night; instead the view was of pure nothingness-- A view that could only be seen and accepted in dreamland. At that point, I felt the world around me getting much bigger. Perhaps I shrunk a few inches? I’m not sure. I had a feeling of determination, so I did what any girl would do; I put on a blue wig, ate candy, and told ghost stories with the children in my Russian neighborhood.  Just as things started getting interesting, I woke up to the sound of my radio alarm clock yelling at me.

Angelina Jolie looking perfect in Moscow, Russia

Like all dreams, this one is open for interpretation.  Instead of analyzing it myself, I give you permission to draw your own conclusions. Regardless of the deeper meaning, that morning I woke up in a cloud of inspiration. Whenever I feel like I’m slipping into a hole of mundane normalcy, Russia is always there to pull me out. I’m not sure why Russia has chosen to blissfully invade my dreams? Maybe I’m actually a Russian spy and the tactics have become so secretive that the only way I’m able to receive and communicate information is through the alternate world of dreams? Or maybe Italy, my soul mate and homeland, has decided to share me with the rest of Europe and I’m still in the Russian stage? But the theory that makes the most sense is glamour. Although I’ve never physically been to Russia, I’ve always pictured it as a being a glamorous utopia in which women wear heels, lipstick, and fierce coats every day of the week. Awhile back, I stumbled upon a news segment about Russian women and their devotion to glamour. The segment was only a few minutes long, but it gave me a glimpse into the glam culture of Russian women, forcing me to realize why I’ve always been inspired by this magical far-away land.

Maybe Russia’s trying to convince me to visit in order to discover a deeper sense of glamour, or maybe the series of dreams are simply meaningless and I need to stop overanalyzing everything. But if there’s anything I’ve learned from my 21 years, 4 months, and 25 days on this planet, it’s that my soul encompasses strong feelings of wanderlust and strong feelings of glamour. Traveling to every corner of the world in order to experience the beauty of different cultures is one of the most authentic and glamorous things one could do, and my desire to embark on such glamorous adventures is something in which I will never lose sight of.

Wandering Free, Wish I Could Be...

View from the pier in my hometown; Point Arena, Ca.

I spent my spring break in one of the most beautiful places on earth; at home on the Mendocino Coast. Living in Wine Country is nice and all, but as someone who grew up right on the edge of the western world, I will forever have a hard time living in an area where the sea foam does not touch. The lack of coastline in Rohnert Park takes a toll on my soul, making me feel like a fish out of water (literally). The Pacific Ocean runs through the veins of those who have grown up alongside it and has become a necessary force to my very existence. My parents always talk about the time they took me to the beach right after I learned how to walk. My mom was holding me, and the minute she put me down, I sprinted towards the waves as my Dad chased after me because they knew I had no fear of actually going in the ocean. I seem to always run towards the dangers of nature, but that’s only because I thrive on the exhilarating aspects of our planet.

Living in a landlocked environment over these past four years has made it difficult for me to adjust to my surroundings. Like Madison in the film Splash when she gets in the bathtub to nourish her mermaid tail, I find myself in the bathtub each night; nourishing my salt water soul. In a strange way, the bathwater is a way to cope with the fact that I don’t have the sea by my side.

My time off last week allowed me to re-establish my bond with one of my true loves of the world; the ocean. I can sense the emptiness in my heart whenever I’m away from it for too long.  As I walked along the pier in my hometown, I felt my soul recharging and was slowly becoming whole again. With each breath, I was inhaling a magical amount of energy, inspiration, and serenity, thus taking my entire being to the next level of creativity. I began to think about fashion (naturally), and how my intrigue of the waves is similar to my lust for fashion. My desire to surround myself in glamour is the same as my desire to surround myself in the atmosphere of the sea. I consider the entirety of the ocean a necessity in my world of glamour.  The water has shaped me in all walks of life, and fashion is definitely no exception.

"Dead mermaids" 

The ocean played a part in raising me, as it indirectly fed my passion for glamour.  I remember going to the beach as a child and thinking that the washed up pieces of seaweed were dead mermaids. Their shiny dead bodies were thrown ashore by the forceful waves and onto the freshly dampened sand for the strange little children of the land (like myself) to admire. I thought it was such a morbid kind of glamorous, and one of nature’s most primitive acts of fashion. From an early age, I was lucky enough to be surrounded by the highest sense of beauty the world had to offer. The natural wonder of the ocean gave me an appreciation for the true glamour of the world, which set the tone for the rest of my life. I was in awe of the ocean, as it was a haven for all that inspired me in life.

The mystique of the ocean is beyond anything else in the world. It’s the ultimate sense of glamour; the ultimate beauty queen. How can something so perfect be real? Its beauty is not created with makeup or clothes, but a planetary creation that bears the enchantment of what our world is capable of.  The ocean emits a pure and authentic feeling of glamour, as it accomplishes the essence of glam without any assistance or enhancements. In a way, the ocean is a fashion icon. It’s beautiful in more ways than just looks-- its beauty is a feeling. It radiates magic, captivating all those in its presence. The ocean is what personal style should be about. It’s the most vulnerable organ of the Earth, and it’s not afraid to powerfully express that vulnerability. We should all feel free with our fashion choices—as free as the sea. Style is something we all have within us, and it’s just a matter of pulling it out and possessing the confidence to be free with it.

We can all learn from the rhythm of the waves by finding our own rhythm of style. Fashion inspiration and liberation is all around us, we just have to take the time to let it into our lives.

In honor of the ocean and fashion, here are some beach themed pictures of fierce women:

Jared Leto-- In Defense of His Fashion

Being labeled “worst dressed” in the media is a compliment. It means you don’t fit society’s standard and aren’t afraid to be completely ridiculous and free with your fashion choices. Of course, there are mistakes in fashion and criticism can be helpful to those who struggle in finding their true style. But often times the celebrities who top worst dressed lists are being criticized because their unique sense of style doesn’t fit the norm of how the rest of the world dresses. From Bjork’s iconic Oscar swan dress to Lady Gaga’s VMA meat dress, some of the most unique and brilliant personalities have been categorized as terrible acts of fashion, simply because they’re not playing by the rules society has set when it comes to what’s acceptable in the expression of one’s appearance.

A few weeks ago, I mentioned rock stars twice my age, my admiration for rebels who wear sunglasses indoors, and  the fact that I would be featured on all the worst dressed lists if I were a celebrity. That being said, it would only make sense if I made a post on one of my favorite male celebrities; Jared Leto, who was given the ultimate honor of being named “Worst Dressed Man in the World” for all of 2011 by GQ Magazine, claiming that he looked “extravagantly terrible all year long”.

Just to refresh your memory, let us briefly recap Jared’s career. We must first appreciate the fact that his talent and versatility as an artist is a rarity. He was a teen idol in the 90s, playing Jordan Catalano in the TV series “My So Called Life”, and then went on to land roles in numerous films such as “Girl Interrupted”, “Fight Club”, and “Requiem for a Dream” where his skills as an actor earned him critical acclimation. Even though Jared’s talent on screen was enough to provide him with a long and successful career as an actor, that didn’t stop him from taking a risk with his artistic abilities when he formed the rock band 30 Seconds to Mars in 1998. With three successful albums, world tours, music videos in which he has produced, written and directed, and a place in the Guinness Book of World records for “Longest Concert Tour by a Rock Band”, 30 Seconds to Mars has proven, and continues to be, a shining light in the music industry. Jared’s passion and devotion towards whatever he sets his mind to is proof that dreams are possible, no matter how out of sight they may seem, as he has gained great success in multiple categories within the world of showbiz.

As well as earning worldwide recognition for his talents, Jared’s fashion choices have also given him quite a lot of headlines in the media. Critics seem to have a hard time understanding Jared’s style choices, which leads many of them to just simply poke fun of his style in general. Criticism for his fashion generally falls along the lines of things like this;  “Leto's always the most wealthy-looking homeless person in the room”, “Jared Leto – once cool, now offending eyeballs worldwide.”, and “Oh, Jared Leto. Once upon a time you were the thing that teenage girls dreamed of most. Now you just look like a homeless version of Inspector Gadget.”

GQ is the leader right now in the category of Jared Leto fashion criticism, as “Worst Dressed Man in the World” is quite an astounding claim for them to have made. Ironically, GQ Germany gave Jared the “Style Man of the Year” award in 2011, proving that the world (and especially GQ) is extremely confused as to whether or not his style is highly fashionable or an indication of insanity.

But not to be outdone, Complex Magazine recently gave Jared Leto the number one slot on their list of the “50 Worst Dressed Celebrities of All Time”. ALL TIME. Not just for a particular year, not just in the world, but for all of forever. I find worst dressed lists to be a confirmation that one is not boring, and since I dream of one day becoming relevant enough to be put on such list, I can’t help but be proud of Jared and all the uprising his style has caused. He’s not only been featured on lists; he’s dominated them. He has achieved top honors on all the worst dressed lists which is something I strive to accomplish, as the eclectic vibrancy and persona of the individuals who end up making these lists are the most interesting ones of all.

What I like about Jared is that he doesn't stick to one particular style. From flamboyant attire to elegant suits, he's created his own category of style that is solely his own and doesn't fit into anyone’s expectation of what he should be. His extravagance and willingness to wear absolutely whatever he desires is something I have tremendous respect for and wish more people had that kind of courage in fashion. As any forward thinking person, his style has evolved tremendously over time, and in recent years, his eccentricity in fashion seems to have hit an all-time high. He's been seen wearing slippers in public, man skirts, mesh tank tops, ponchos, shredded t-shirts, studded pants, and Indiana Jones style hats. His hair has been sculpted into a vibrant pomegranate colored mohawk, cut into a mullet multiple times, and dyed a smurf shade of blue. Although hair is an aspect of one's style, Jared’s hair has a mind of its own and I would have to devote an entire post just to express the flawless qualities and evolution of his hairstyles over the years. 

He's attended various fashion weeks (where fashion criticism is naturally heightened) and still stays true to his style without sacrificing his fashion identity for the approval of the mainstream, which is one of the reasons why I idolize him so much. He doesn’t play it safe with fashion, nor does he hold back in expressing who he really is inside.

Jared and Gaga exchanging style tips at the 2010 VMAs

Some call him a fashion icon, some believe he gets dressed in the dark, some think he tries too hard, some think he’s just a blonde wig away from being Lady Gaga, and some just can’t figure him out. But the reality is that he’s simply just being himself. He’s confident in expressing his creativity through all aspects of life, and fashion is no exception. Creative individuals are compelled to share their art with the world, and one’s fashion is a form of art. The choices we make with our clothes is one of the most beautiful and vulnerable parts of life, as our personal attire tell us a lot about one another and can be seen as a  reflection of how we perceive ourselves.

Jared Leto’s style is one of my favorite things in the world. He is like the explosion of a really weird rainbow, an eighties hair metal band, and Derek Zoolander (the ultimate fashion icon). No matter if he wears a flannel shirt and jeans or faux feathers over a denim vest, I will defend his fashion choices until the death of me because the individuals who are unafraid to freely express themselves through fashion are those in which I admire most. People like him give me hope for all of humanity in that it’s ok to do whatever you want in fashion, regardless of one’s age, gender, or how ridiculous others may think you look.

The toxic notion behind the worst dressed lists applies to more than just celebrities. It represents negative fashion criticism, and the idea that some of us are “wrong” with our style and have broken non-existent rules of fashion. Don’t let the fear of being criticized keep you from expressing your individuality. Those who break the rules and refuse to conform to society’s standards, in both fashion and in life, are the ones who change the world for the better.

Shoe Lust

I think one of the greatest joys of my existence as a child was that I gave my mom and grandma a chance to dress me up as if I were a doll. Playing dress up was 100% of the time, and they made sure I had vibrant outfits for every occasion. I remember for my pre-school Christmas show, they put me in a red winter dress with Dalmatian print and a matching “handmuff”. I didn’t even know what a handmuff was, but my grandma explained it to me and told me about how she had been to a wedding once where all the girls were dripping in diamonds and wearing handmuffs. Italians go over the top in everything, so I really had no choice but to wear an accessory that had been seen in a fancy wedding to my pre-school Christmas show. As I think about it now, I’ve come to the conclusion that the only owners of handmuffs are dolls, girls from the 1940s, and Gina as a child.

I’ve been spending a lot of time reflecting on my past and the influences that have helped shape me into the person I am today. My grandma and mother are definitely huge influences, as they’re the strongest and most beautiful women I know. But one of the most profound influences on my life was the film The Wizard of Oz.

I watched this movie countless times as a child, enjoying it more and more each time I saw it. Dorothy was someone I could relate to. We both lived on farms, and as cheesy as it sounds, we both had dreams of going somewhere over the rainbow into a magical land that was beyond life on the farm. I found comfort in Dorothy, and felt as if she was someone who understood me. Living on a farm is a very different experience than the majority of childhoods, and I’m not sure anyone could understand unless they grew up in that kind of environment. And it was especially odd for me, as I was this eccentric and vibrant little child who would run around in mesh fairy wings and use the cattle guard as a catwalk.

The Wizard of Oz was an outlet of escape for me—a chance to live apart from reality and in the magical land of Oz. I loved it all. The music, the costumes, the characters, Dorothy, even the Wicked Witch-- she fascinated me, as did her army of monkeys. But what I loved most of all was the Ruby Slippers. They were the ultimate sense of glamour and I found great beauty in them. My 4 year old self was in awe, and even today when I watch the film I’m still in awe.

When I was around 4, my mom and grandma got me my very own pair of “Ruby Slippers”, which began my lifelong relationship with shoes. They were my connection to Dorothy, to fashion, and to everything I ever dreamed of. They weren’t just shoes—they were food for my soul, and helped harness the magic that was inside of me. An incredible feeling overcame me whenever I wore them, as they allowed me to take the fantasy of Oz and bring it into reality.

Fast forward to August of 2011, just weeks before my 21^st birthday. Being the kind soul she is, my mother decided to get me a pair of Jeffrey Campbell Lita shoes as a birthday gift. She didn’t really know anything about them other than “the shoes you’ve been obsessed with”, so instead of finding them, she gave me the money to buy the pair I had desired.

Months prior, I had been lusting over these brilliant creations in footwear. They were different than any shoe I had ever seen. The 6 inch block of a heel, the variety in colors, the way they laced up—I knew right away that they were made for me. I had gone through a variety of shoes over the years, but there was something special about the Litas. They were the kind of special that I only saw one other time in my life; with the Ruby Slippers.

When my Litas finally arrived, the excitement had turned me into an extreme emotional mess.  I was a bit apprehensive about opening the box since I had been waiting for this moment for so long and didn’t want that lusting feeling to ever end. But I quickly pushed that feeling aside and ripped open the box like a wild animal on crack.

The day I got my Litas. Don't mind my skeletal fingers.

My mom and brother watched as I shredded the cardboard in excitement. They were probably curious as to what the big deal was with my latest obsession in fashion. I finally got the box open, and it was love at first sight.

It’s like they were crafted by angels in platform heaven. The soft black leather, the factory fresh smell, the larger than life heel—I’m honestly surprised that I didn’t pass out and die upon first laying eyes on them, as the feeling was just too much for my heart to handle.

When I tried them on, my emotions got even further out of control. I didn’t want to look at anyone, because I didn’t want them to see me tearing up. If people were allowed to marry shoes in California, I would’ve married them in an instant. They brought life into me, and it was like I was seeing the world for the very first time when they were on my feet. They were more than just a material item, they were one of my essential body parts.

Meanwhile, my mom and brother were observing the scene of Gina and Lita insanity that was happening right there in the kitchen. They thought the shoes were ridiculous. My mom could not stop laughing and told me that I wouldn’t be able to walk without falling and killing myself. My brother shook his head and said that the shoes were meant for hookers. When my dad got home and saw them, he thought I had finally lost my mind. I took everyone’s reactions as compliments, and proceeded into my room where I could be at peace with my new shoes, my cat, and a cup of tea—my only necessities in the world.

My Litas brought back the feeling of happiness I had with my Ruby Slippers at age 4. It was like the magic in my life had been restored. My Ruby Slippers were my first solemate, and now I had found my second.

An extreme love for shoes may seem superficial to those who haven’t discovered their perfect pair. But nothing is more genuine than the beautiful feeling one has upon walking around in their favorite pair of shoes. When my favorites are on my feet (heels in particular), they become an extension of my being. They bring out the best version of myself, and give me confidence in wanting to do amazing things in life.

Unfortunately, I was not born a 6ft tall European top model, so wearing heels is the closest I’ll ever get to my unattainable dream of supermodel stardom.  Shoes have an incredible power of liberation, and my hope for the world is for everyone to be able to experience the same joys with shoes as I have.

The phrase “if you could walk in my shoes…”is spot on when it comes to the connection between shoes and life. There’s something extremely personal about out shoes. Our steps begin our journeys in life, and having a pair of shoes that we find happiness in is essential in leading us closer to our dreams.

"I Don't Know Where I'm Going, but I Promise It Won't be Boring."

A Philip Treacy crystallized lobster headpiece
worn by Lady Gaga, aka the Queen.

Over the weekend, one of my family members contacted me and told me that, amongst other things, I am too preoccupied with fashion and celebrities to ever make it in the real world. That I should focus on preparing myself for what a role that fits in with society rather than standing out. In their view, I’m apparently not mature enough to ever make a name for myself because I distance myself from reality and choose to live in my imagination. Fashion is the fuel that powers the world of fantasy in my head-- that’s an obvious fact of my life. But their words were said as an insult, as if my passion and devotion to fashion is a problem. I will admit, I was quite upset over their comment. But I picked myself up, got over it, and am finding the positivity in this minor blow to my character.

The first bit of positivity that comes from this is that it must mean I’m not boring. The fact that my mere existence and interests are enough to infuriate people who have never even been a huge part of my life gives me a sense of satisfaction. I don’t know why my life bothers them, but it tells me that I am doing something right. I find that the best people in this world are the ones who don’t follow the rules society puts upon them. The ones who aren’t afraid to be different and the ones who have the courage to express themselves however they choose.

The second reason as to why this situation is positive is because it has paved the way for my blog post this week! Since some people seem to think I’m too preoccupied with fashion and celebrities, I’m going to talk about just that and then take it to the next level by going into detail the ensembles I’d wear if I were in the public eye.

I’ve always said that if I were a celebrity, I’d be put on a worst dressed list every single day of my life. From the criticism in magazines to the comical comments from Joan Rivers on Fashion Police, there’s no doubt in my mind that the eccentricity of my being would  go far beyond the realm of what’s considered accepted attire in today’s society.

Since I’m putting myself in this hypothetical celebrity situation; let’s assume I’d have quite an attractive bank account. And with the excitement of my wallet, I would spend every dollar on the creation that is my own personal style. The amount of makeup, clothes, wigs, and accessories I’d own would turn every day into a costume party. My entire life would be a David Bowie themed runway show-- an ongoing exotic adventure in my own little world of fairies, rainbows, and graveyards. Not many people would understand, but they wouldn’t have to.  Sometimes the beauty of it all if knowing that there are people who don’t understand. They’re not worthy of having you in their lives, and their toxic energy is not welcome.

I’d wear sparkly crowns, yellow feathers, glue rhinestones to my face, and walk around with an entourage of fellow freaks and misfits.

I would devote an entire room in my house to my collection of neon wigs, my collection of shoes, and my collection of Galliano pieces.

The hats I’d decorate my head with would make the sights seen at the royal wedding seem like no big deal. My various headpieces would make it difficult to fit through doorways, but that’s a challenge I’d be willing to tackle.

My eyes would be shielded by Dolce and Gabbana sunglasses whenever I venture indoors, because I find people who wear shades inside to be the coolest and most interesting kinds of rebels in the world.

I would wear haute couture every single day, and the fashion would become so intense that people wouldn’t know whether or not if my ensembles connoted high end couture or homelessness.

But what would I actually be famous for? Being a superhero? A supermodel? A superfreak? All of the above? If you’ve been following my posts, you may feel the need to suggest the idea of me appearing on what would be the most watched episode of Hoarders of all time: My problem of “Hoarding Perfume like a French Whore” is bound to one day spin out of control, thus thrusting me into the spotlight for my fifteen minutes of shameful reality show induced fame and fortune. Or maybe I’ll end up doing what every girl dreams of doing; marrying a rock star who is twice my age. My vibrant marriage and odd demeanor will be enough to put me at the level of importance for appearing on fashion lists.

I would look like a cross between Thumbelina, Morticia Addams, and the mother in the film Matilda. I would be the most intriguing mess of fashion of all time. The western world would probably not be able to handle it.  People will start rioting on the streets because they’ll be painfully confused and won’t know how else to deal with their emotions.

I don’t know where I’ll be or what I’ll be doing in the future, but I’m positive that my love of fashion will only intensify. I’m excited to see how my style progresses as time goes by, as evolution on all levels is an essential part life.  The extremely pathetic amount of dollars right now in my bank account already goes towards purchasing all aspects of fashion, so I can only imagine how exciting my life would be if I had the funds to expand my empire of style.

But no matter if I become ridiculously rich and famous or am living alone in the middle of a forest during a cold winter in Germany, fashion will always be a part of me. No one has the right to ever make you feel bad about yourself, or tell you what you’re doing with your life is wrong. As cliché as it sounds, there are always going to be people who try and bring you down. I guess I’ve never truly understood what that meant until now. We are all perfect the way we are, and we need to embrace our individuality. If anyone has a problem with that, cover yourself in epic amounts of glitter to the point in which the sparkle is so powerful that it defeats all those who try and ruin you.

Style Muse: Dita Von Teese

One of my all-time favorite fashionable ladies is none other than the Queen of Burlesque, Dita Von Teese. Her fame is in an entirely different classification than that of most celebrities as she has single handedly built her rise to success in the public eye through modeling, burlesque dancing, acting, and costume designing. She has walked the runway for various haute couture shows (the ultimate act of fashion) and is considered an international fashion icon. Her love of old Hollywood and 1940s retro glamour are reflected in her style, and unlike many fashionable females in the public eye, she executes the majority of her glamour herself. She does her own makeup, dyes her own hair, refuses to ever have a stylist, and still manages to look flawless.

It’s quite difficult for me to even comprehend the stylistic perfection of Dita Von Teese . She takes glamour very very seriously, and that’s something I admire. Devotion to glamour seems to be occurring less and less in our world, which is a tragic fact to face. The uniform of our society has become a mix between either jeans and t-shirts or sweatpants and ugg boots. If that’s your style, great! Wear it proudly. However, I feel as if a certain sense of laziness has spread across civilization when it comes to fashion. The glam culture is not as prevalent amongst the masses as it once was, and I’m not ok with that. Girls who spend long hours putting themselves together each morning are looked down upon, as if it’s a waste of time and that the only reason for the excessive glamour is to impress others.

No one seems to understand the honesty behind glamour. The obsession with altering one’s appearance through the world of beauty comes across to many people as being “fake”, when in all honesty, nothing can be more real. It’s a foreign concept to most people, as we live in a day and age in which convenience and comfort are valued over everything. The idea of “let’s spend hours painting our face, molding our hair, and rebelling against the dress code of society” is simply just not understood by the majority of people anymore.

But people like Dita restore my hope in all of humanity. She understands the culture of glamour, the lifestyle of fashion. She understands reasons why I cannot stand wearing jeans, or the highly emotional tears of fashion I cried when I become an owner of Litas. She gets it. She understands the joy glamor brings to one’s life, and the importance of dedicating ourselves wholeheartedly to our own personal styles. It’s not about impressing others; it’s about nurturing the glamour that’s embedded deep within our souls and harnessing the magic that happens upon glamorizing ourselves.


Dita lives, breathes, and radiates glamour. She is unafraid to wear whatever she wants, not matter how extravagant or overdone she may appear. There is nothing more genuine than her artificial black hair and signature red lips, as Dita purely wears her soul in her style. We are what we create for ourselves, and our bodies are seen as a blank canvas to the fashionable soul. One of my favorite things about Dita is that she is always fully committed to her style, no matter if she’s in the grocery store or on the red carpet. Fashion is not just a part of her life, fashion is her life. And the individuals who lead a lifestyle of fashion are those in which I admire most in this world, as I don’t know if it’s possible for anyone else to truly understand me.

Dita Von Teese has worked hard to achieve everything she’s set her mind to and is living proof that dreams are indeed possible no matter how varied or unattainable they may seem. She isn’t the standard “cookie cutter” image of what’s considered beautiful in our society, but she’s worked hard to overcome all of that and has paved her way into being one of the most recognizable women in fashion. She reinforces the idea in me that you don’t need a reason to dress up. If you feel the need to wear a sparkly dress and heels to the grocery store, don’t hesitate for a second! Work that frozen food isle like you’re strutting down the runway for Dior and let the magic of fashion free your soul from the toxic expectations of society.

Style Your Senses

You know that person whose sweet perfume intricately invades your senses when they walk past you? That is the person I strive to be every single day of my life.

It’s no secret that I hoard bottles of perfume like a French whore. I just finished my eighth bottle of Heiress by Paris Hilton, all of my clothes are permanently covered in shimmer from the insanity that happens whenever I come in contact with my bottle of glitter filled Juicy by Juicy Couture, and I've probably gone through more bottles of Fantasy by Britney Spears than I have consumed water in my lifetime. I have also made a vow to myself to not purchase any food on campus in order to save up for a giant bottle of Play by Givenchy— the next fragrance to fall victim to my perfume whoring ways.

Without question, I have a deep addiction. Not an addiction to drugs, alcohol, or whatever the next greatest problem may be that’s featured on Celebrity Rehab-- I am addicted to glamour and my addiction to the drug of beauty seems to get deeper and deeper as the days progress. Perfume in particular is one of my biggest cravings in the whole wide world of glamour, and the need for it in my life is something I take very seriously.

Perfume is the icing on the cake of all things style. It adds another sense to fashion, allowing us to both observe and inhale an outfit. Without perfume, a live outfit in the flesh is not operating at its full potential. The clothes are just plainly there on the individual; seen, but not tasted; observed, but not felt. In order for me to connect on a deeper level with those I talk to, they have to be wearing perfume as it gives me a better sense of their style in general.

As a natural born hoarder of fragrances, I’ve realized that not all scents work equally on everyone. For example, my mom likes really exotic and musky tones in fragrances such as YSL’s Opium and Tova by Tova Borgnine. Me on the other hand, I enjoy perfumes that are so God damn sugary sweet to the point in which it may make others want to vomit. If my mom and I were to switch perfume collections, our lives would be a disaster. Our particular tastes in how we flavor our style each day with perfume is extremely different, and switching fragrances would be like switching clothes. There’s nothing wrong with the clothes she wears—her style is very much her own and I appreciate her freedom in fashion, but I would never wear any of what she wears, just as she would never wear any of what I wear and the same thing goes for perfume.

Everyone’s style is different, and perfume is a strong aspect of style. Our styles are unique and should reflect who we are deep inside. It’s important to find which fragrances work for you and then stick with them. You want to find a perfume that you can feel absorbing into your skin and awakening your soul as soon as you spray it on-- something that lights up your senses and makes you feel alive. Perfume is the last ingredient added to my outfit each morning, as no ensemble is complete without a delicious spritz of whatever scent I’m feeling on any given day. It takes me to the next level in fashion, allowing me to taste, feel, and beautifully lose myself in the dark pit of glamour that's embedded in my soul.

My plea for all of you is to remember that your outfit is not finished without perfume. It’s the spark of magic within your style and the aura that surrounds you. Without it you’re always going to be one step behind, and just as Coco Chanel once said, “A women who doesn't wear perfume has no future.”

Until then, check out some perfume ads: