As someone who has been known for the way they've been dressed, it's almost OK for me to wear New Balances and sweat pants. I'm not necessarily moulding trends, but it's OK if I'm not adhering to them.
I'm someone very comfortable airing out the stories of my own life. Some people call it narcissism, but for me, the intention is that it will positively affect other people.
It seems inevitable, if unfair, that when a woman is vying for a prominent position in office, her outfit choices will be analyzed to a degree considerably higher than those of her male counterpart by simple existence of gender stereotypes.
I got a C in art when I was in 11th grade. That it is even possible to come out of a high school art class with a C is wondrous, especially considering the creative license we were encouraged to use to, for lack of a better axiom, color outside the lines.
Being a man repeller becomes a process of elimination. If a guy is only really into your outfit and won't date you because of what you're wearing, they are too driven by the female exterior and don't care about your intellect.
I am loving visible bras with shirts, high-waisted pants and oversize blazers.
Man Repeller is intended to chronicle all the fashion trends that women love and men hate. I started it because I am woman with a deep appreciation for harem pants. And sometimes blaming clothing on a sad love life is easier than blaming oneself!
Initially what defined me as a 'man repeller' was my conscious effort to wear clothing that was attractive in my opinion but not necessarily in a man's opinion.
Nothing feels better than constructing a beautiful sentence.
Making the decision to embrace or to shun makeup is one that should be contingent on nothing more, nothing less, than doing what makes you feel like the best version of yourself.
The holidays are only overwhelming because it's crunch time. It's like everyone trying to get last-minute things in before the New Year starts.
What good is a wall without framed art? It is like the equivalent of the accessories that you choose to wear to decorate a black dress - precisely the stuff that makes the wall/dress you.
I do know that I would never - though you should never say never - work with a decorator, because I don't want to see the touch of someone else in my own space.
I feel like alternative piercings in the ear is this untapped way to festoon yourself. Not many people understand this, but it hurts so good. It's like getting dental work done. It hurts in the right way.
I understand that there are thick, dark circles under my eyes. I have grown to appreciate them. I have noticed that my nose grows a little hookier on a near-monthly basis. That's fine. I know there are wrinkles ready to stake their claim as full time residents on my forehead any moment now. My dad has those, too, and I find that endearing.
People always ask me how I muster the strength to be so open about things, and I explain to them that I took the Myers-Briggs test, like, four times, and every single time, I ranked an 87 percent extrovert, so it would probably take more strength for me to shut up.
What a woman does or does not do to her face is personal. And as with most other things, makeup or a lack thereof can serve as either a prison or a fortress commanded by the mind: you can become a slave to it, or it can set you free.
Without getting too spiritual, God has done so much for me; the least I can do is drink Kiddush wine on a Friday night.
I have never done anything to my brows, though sometimes I tweeze the intersection of the left and right brow, which is either a really good thing or a really bad thing.
I knew I wanted to be a fashion writer but didn't want to contribute to the over-saturated market unless I could contribute in a meaningful way.