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Mar 06 2013
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Thought Piece

Hey … Remember 2001?!

imagesWhether you were a teenager 5, 10, 15, 20 … etc. etc. etc., :::cough::: … years ago, there is probably a part of you that would love to hop in the DeLorean and bitch slap your younger self. Why? Because you were an idiot. Admit it. Laugh, take a sip of wine, and admit it … for the love.

During a very “stylish chat” with fellow bloggers today, it made me think about my time as a teen. Yeesh. That’s all I have to say about that. I was in the throes of my teenage years during the zeros? The 00′s? The early 2000′s? What the hell are we calling that decade anyways? Whatever … regardless, the saying, “I wish that I knew what I know now, like when I was younger,” is so true. I wish my 26-year-old self could tap my 13-18 year-old self on the shoulder and say something like, “Ey you, stop acting a fool. Kay thanks, byeeeee.” But alas, that kind of technology hasn’t been invented yet.

So if I could hop in my fire engine red DeLorean and stop myself from doing idiotic things … here’s what they would be … ahem:

1. Chill With The “OMG’s” and “WTF’s”: The chances of you and your friend or frenemy that spread the rumor around school that you once made out with a hot dog (Mean Girls … ayeoooo), still being friends outside of your teenage-dom … is slim to none. You’ll walk away with two, maybe three friends from high school. “No no no … but we are like best frien …” I’m going to stop you there. You don’t think you’ll lose touch, but you will. College will happen, new friends will swoop in, then internship friends, then real life friends … then you’ll be saying high school who? Right. So chill with the drama. For reals … this “real world” your teachers and parents keep talking to you about does actually exist … and blows. Badly. Save your tears and reality TV drama moments for when you get verbally beat down by your boss for the first time. Boom.

2. Wear Your Damn Rubber Bands/Retainer: Because when you’re 26, your bottom teeth will be jacked. And you will be pissed that you went through all that pain to have your teeth go back to the way God intended them to be. Like really pissed. Now you have to start pricing out God damn Invisalign so you don’t have to look like Faith Hill at the Grammy’s.

3. Get. Out. Of. The. Sun: Wrinkles aren’t just for mom-mom’s. And skin tags … they really do exist. And for the love of Jesus, you’ll still get tan whilst wearing SPF 30. And my GOD no one gives a shit that you have a tan line of a Playboy bunny on your hip from the tanning salon. Cancer. Yeah … that’s a real thing too. Hats. Umbrellas. SPF 70. I don’t care what the hell you do … just take care of your skin, for the love of God. Hmmm people liking me because I’m sun-kissed … or cancer? People liking me because I’m sun-kissed … or cancer?

4. Stop Giving A Shit What People Think: It won’t matter. Ever. Like never ever. You think those girls gossiping in the corner before Home Room will haunt you the rest of your life? Nope. The minute you get handed your diploma, they will fall into the dark abyss of your memory never to return again (unless you want to rock your reunion … which I don’t suggest … unless you really want to stick it to them, then go for the gold). Wear what you want, and don’t just give in to trends because everyone else is doing it. Not expressing yourself will be the biggest regret of them all. Instead of standing out, you will fade into the velour cloud of Juicy sweat suits. Vom.

5. Start Becoming One With Healthy Foods: Your fab metabolism … won’t last forever. No matter how long you think it will … it won’t. Your ass will start giggling, you will get stretch marks, and all because you got addicted to shit food and soft drinks in your younger years. Humus, meet mouth … mouth … meet humus.

P.S.: Stop thinking you are going to move to New York City to become J. Lo’s next back up dancer, draining your mother’s bank account with hours of dance lessons and $90 dance costumes made of plether and other very flammable fabrics. Instead … hit the yoga studio. ASAP. Kay, thanks.

5. Tell Name Brands To Suck It: There will be this mystical store in the future called Forever 21 that will be a game changer, where you can get fashion forward, rich looking outfits … for literally nothing. Brands like Juicy Couture, Hard Tail, Michael Stars, Mavi, Seven, etc. … won’t mean anything. Also, teenagers shouldn’t carry around designer handbags unless they can buy it for themselves, they happen to have rock stars for parents, or they did something like cure cancer. Otherwise it just looks ridiculous. Word.

Now if only my actual adult self could come calm my on-edge 26-year-old ass and tell me everything was going to a-okay and that I would end up publishing Life Sucks In A Strapless Bra, and ride off into the sunset on a unicorn with Justin Timberlake.

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Feb 01 2012
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Thought Piece

The Vanillas …

Have you ever come across a girl you can’t help but compare yourself to? For me, I always find myself up against the vanilla girls. I’m sure you’ve come across a couple in your life, and if you haven’t well, that is fabulous for you. The vanilla girls are always put together. They can walk into a room without a drop of makeup on and just say, “oops I didn’t have time to put it on this morning, oh well” and not even blink. Claim to be fabulously fashion forward and say Audrey Hepburn is their style icon. Their perfect hair is NEVER out-of-place … EVER. They aren’t funny, slightly serious if anything. Stains never land on any article of clothing they own and if, God forbid, it does happen, they have a Tide stick in arms reach to heal this issue. Their clothing is always ironed to perfection. When they laugh, it seems the right gust of wind always comes along to move their hair to and fro as they fling their head back and forth smiling and caring on in what seems to be slow motion.

And then here I am. I like to think that ever female has some sort of fantastic sparkle to them. It could be something terribly tiny, but just SOMETHING that makes them stand out from the crowd. I also don’t like to believe in things like “perfection,” since, for me at least, it seems highly unobtainable and not worth the blood, sweat and tears it takes to obtain. Because I believe when you do obtain it … you turn vanilla.

So here are just some reasons why I find myself to not be a “vanilla girl”:

1. I’m disheveled. I move at a million miles a second and therefore always have a flaw with my outfit. Hell, I feel like it gives it character. It is either I’m wrinkled or I have a stain or hole on my dress, or I have red pen on my sleeve. Regardless, something is always out-of-place. Perhaps I should slow down.

2. I hate ironing. Yes, I invested in a steamer and adore it, but even that sometimes doesn’t do the trick. By the end of the day I look like I took off my dress, crumbled it up in a ball, threw it on the ground, walked all over it and then slipped it back on.

3. I curse … a lot … including the “F” word. (Sorry mom/family … it’s sad but true, although you probably know this)

4. When I laugh really hard my eyes tear up and I cry, whilst laughing … which then leads me to look like a hot mess. The right gust of wind might come to move my hair in a sexy fashion that will most likely end up getting caught in my fabulous lip gloss. I could fling my head back, but I would probably knock someone out or pull something in my neck. But yes, when I laugh I sometimes have mascara running down my face … but I believe a good laugh is totally worth it.

5. I’m Alexander McQueen … not Ann Taylor.

6. If I don’t have makeup on … I feel naked. I can’t pull a, “OH MY GOD, I’m running so late … I’ll just do my makeup when I get there,” because I will feel like a crazed hyena when I get “there.”

7. My hair always looks like I rolled around in the backseat of my car for a couple of hours. When I am thinking about something, I’ll run my fingers through my hair, or try to give it more volume which will just make it look like I have out-of-control sex hair. I just want more volume, dammit.

8. I’m more fascinated with the abstract, not the simple.

9. I dig my chunky, over-the-top, outlandish accessories. Like high heels with studs on the back of them that could potentially hurt someone or black over the knee leather boots.

10. My nails are rarely painted properly. They are either chipped or, if I have a second, I most likely just covered up the chipped parts with the same color as I was flying out the door to leave for work. Sorry, no time for french manicures :::yawn:::

I think, as females, we all strive to reach some level of perfection. But like I said before, it just is an unobtainable thing. Women kill themselves daily to have the right hair, makeup, clothing, accessories just for the sake of “fitting in,”  and I absolutely do not exclude myself from that statement. Yes, I sometimes let myself get carried away with comparing my style to these “vanilla girls,” but all this comparing and contrasting has just made me become one with my so-called “flaws,” because that is who I am, and at the end of the day the “vanilla” look just doesn’t suite me. Flaws are beautiful, no matter how abnormal or dysfunctional they may be, they are you, so get used to it. Even under all of those pretty dresses, proper hats and beautiful smile, Kate Middleton probably has some really unattractive quality about her, like eating potato chips in bed or something crazed like that.

Own your flaws ladies, they are gorg. I sure as hell am.

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Jan 12 2012
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Thought Piece

Dressing For You

I need to preface this post by saying I am not a feminist nor am I a man hater. I don’t keep a copy of “The Feminine Mystique” by my bed and “Jagged Little Pill” is not set on repeat on my iTouch (even though it is a fabulous album). I love men, they truly are a fabulous thing.

With that being said, I just read an article about trends ladies rock that men apparently loathe … and to that I said, really? :::Sigh::: Okay, so with age you begin to realize certain things you used to spend hours and hours worrying about are, in reality, not that big of a deal. I realize I am freshly 25 and have numerous things left to learn in life, but I have picked up at least one very important piece of information that I feel compelled to share. Grab a piece of paper and a pen, put this in the “Notes” section of your iPhone, Tweet it … do what you must with it. Ahem: FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, DON’T LET BOYS DICTATE YOUR STYLE … ever. 

I’m going to confess that only recently did I start dressing for myself. Sure, I buy pieces and have days where I question if people will point and laugh at what I’m wearing like we are back in the second grade. But sometimes you just need to step outside of the situation and realize, hey, we aren’t in the second grade, and if anyone makes fun of what you are wearing after, oh I dunno, you are 10 years old … then they need some serious help. But more times than not, if I want to wear a toned down tuxedo to work, I will rock it with four-inch heels. But back in the day, meaning high school and parts of college, I would dress for everyone but myself.

So three years out of college, I now have the confidence to say if you are with a guy who either A. doesn’t like your style and/or B. dumps you because of what you wear, then simply file him under “jackass” and move on to someone who not only loves you for you, but isn’t so shallow as to shun you simply for your taste in clothes. I mean for crying out loud.

So, in regards to what I wear or what girls in general wear, here is what I could care less about, dudes:

1. If you hate that I rock menswear sometimes, even if it is made for women. Six words: Madonna in the video for Vogue.

2. If you are intimidated by my four-inch heels. I realize barefoot I’m 5’9, but tall people deserve to wear to die for heels, too. And let me tell you a little secret, where the shoes come off … I go back to being 5’9, shhh.

3. If you think I wear too much makeup or not enough makeup at all. I love makeup, but let me see you apply blush in all the right places and produce a fantastic smokey eye … good luck, guy.

4. If you think maxi skirts and dresses make me look like I’m from the 1800′s.

5. If you wished I would wear more color. It isn’t that I’m depressed or gothic, black is just fantastically chic. Karl Lagerfeld gets it, why can’t you?

6. If you wish I wouldn’t wear socks with high heels. Okay, fine … MAYBE I can give you an inch on this one. But it is a ballsy fashion statement.

7. If you think my wardrobe has too much sparkle … literally. No I’m not a backup dancer for Cher, sequins are chic and happy … in moderation, of course.

8. If you want me to have manicures that are either pink, red or French. Just because I wear navy, grey, black and or dark purple polish doesn’t mean I’m going to run out and get a stud through my nose. I’m still me, my nails just get bored.

9. That you hate that my clothes aren’t always ultra tight. Being fashion forward means that some garments are expected to be a bit on the baggy side. My lady lumps are still there, I promise.

10. If my outfit doesn’t match by conventional terms. So what if I have a striped shirt on with a leopard print cardigan over it. It makes sense … I promise.

I will end this by saying Lady Gaga has a boyfriend and the genius blogger behind Man Repeller is engaged. Wear what makes you happy, ladies. The right men will follow … and hopefully the others will fall on their face chasing after you or running in the opposite direction from your “cray cray” fashion sense.

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Sep 12 2011
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Thought Piece

Mirror Talk

Trying to find something to wear in the morning, or the night before, can be absolutely one of the most frustrating things in the world. You have a perfect picture vision of what you want to wear in your head, right? So you start rifling through your closet playing a little game called “trial and error.”

I know I’ll put something on, thinking it is magic, walk over to my floor length mirror and start doing the dance. You know what I’m talking about. It goes a little something like this, 5, 6, 7, 8 … turn to the right, stop, pose, flatten out the fabric in the front. Turn to the left, stop, flatten out of the fabric in the front. Turn to the front. Stop. Hands on hips. Vogue pose. Vogue pose. Turn around, look behind, spin back to the front. STAGE FREEZE.

Aaaaaaand depending on your mood, certain phrases, words and sentence fragments will come flying out towards your reflection. Perhaps you’ve hit the jackpot and the first thing you’ve tried on works. Maybe this time you won’t say anything, maybe you’ll just continue the dance to see how utterly fantastic you look as you smile and flip your God damn hair. Congrats to you ya jerk! Chances are you probably just went shopping and everything looks fabulous because know the other 364 days just won’t be that easy.

So if you’re staring back at a failing look, frustration will start to creep into your soul. And after you are confronted with more and more heinous looks that do not work, the more you will want to pull a switch blade on your mirror. For me, I have some go to questions and or comments I make to myself or the poor souls who happen to be around me during this “trial and error” period. Ahem …

“Do I look like I’m going to a funeral?” -Referring to a great black Calvin Klein dress

“God dammit, I look like a special ballerina.” -Referring to a really great light pink graduated hemline see through skirt.

“I’m a house, I’ve turned into a house ladies and gents.” -Referring to an oversized dress that, well, is supposed to be oversized according to Cynthia Rowley.

“Do I look fat? Seriously, don’t lie to me, I can take it, I’m an adult, I can take it, I just want to know, for serious.” -Referring to … well … anything I put on my body.

“Do you think this is too short? Would you judge me for wearing this in the office? I mean my finger tips touch the hemline, I’m good, right? I just don’t want to be known as the whore in the office who wears inappropriate things thinking they are appropriate.” -Talking myself into wearing a dress that MIGHT just be a bit too short.

“Is this too much black, or is there no such thing?” -Referring to all of my wardrobe.

“Why can’t I be just three damn inches shorter … blasted DNA.” -Referring mostly to the high heels I own. Sure I’ve gotten over the fact that I’m tall, but I still have my moments.

“Why didn’t anyone tell me I look like a crackhead.” -Referring to when I was trying to go for the, “I don’t give an eff” look that went totally wrong.

“I look like a hooker.” – Referring to a comment that is an oldie but goodie. Yes, this could be uttered over numerous things such as too much makeup, tight dresses and or bad color choices.

I could go on for hours and hours and hours, and I’m probably forgetting some of the ridiculousness that goes through my head when finding that perfect outfit. And why do we get so frustrated? Because all we want to do is wear something that makes us feel sexy, confident, powerful and fashion forward, right? That’s all we ask. So in those moments of rage when nothing is working, everything is fitting wrong and every outfit seems tired and utterly boring … know you aren’t alone. There is probably some crazytown lady going through the same emotions as you are … saying sentence fragments of how she looks like a tranny mess into her mirror, ripping off the outfit, throwing it into a pile and going back to the drawing board, hands on her hips, sweating and feeling hopeless.

But know … at the end of the day … we always look fabulous. We just go through a lot of curse words, crazy thoughts, blood, sweat and tears to get there.

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Aug 09 2011
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Thought Piece

Don’t Shame The Dress Just Because It’s Good!

Okay so we all have that … I believe Beyoncé referred to it as the “freakum dress.” That one dress that fits us like a glove, hugs all the right spots and makes us feel like we could strut the catwalk. When you try this dress on in the fitting room, at least I know I want to jump up and down, put my hands on my hips, strike a model pose and look at myself in every angle on my tippy toes.

So you buy said “freakum dress” for a specific occasion, wear it, hit it out of the park … and then what? You had a great night in it, met lots of fantastic people, fantastic things happened … and when the night is over, is it supposed to be sucked into the vortex of your closet never to return? According to society, yes … that is EXACTLY what is supposed to happen. Would Kim Kardashian be caught in the same dress she got at Bloomingdale’s twice? HELL no … so why, the average Josephine, should we? Oh THAT’S right … because I’m NOT a Kardashian … rriiiigggghhhttt.

I swear, we live in a world now where it is quite easy to think of yourself as a celebrity with our social media, smartphones and high-speed careers. And it has been pounded in our heads that it is such a faux pas to wear the same dress numerous times. For example, when I went to New York this weekend, I brought two different dress options with me, one was new and the other was my freakum dress that I had worn about three times prior. I put on dress number one and EH, but when I tried on my freakum magic, I IMMEDIATELY felt shame because I had worn it so much, no matter how fantastic it looked. Luckily my wise friend that I was with asked me why I was shaming a dress because it was good and immediately I snapped out of it. (So wise that one).

So why didn’t I want to wear my go-to dress? Well, I was worried that I had been photographed in it numerous times at different functions. What? Hi self, YOU AREN’T A KARDASHIAN. It isn’t like these photos would end up on the cover of US Weekly with a headline that reads, “Kate’s Freakum Dress Strikes Again,” or “Wardrobe Repeat Kate.” Let’s be honest, the only place those pictures would end up is Facebook, and if you are sitting on Facebook counting the times I re-wore the dress, well Jesus, God save you. I also fear bitchy people recognizing me wearing the dress and calling me out for it. Hey, those jerks DO exist are out there.

We aren’t celebrities, and if you are … I am green with envy, let me tell you. But I’m assuming everyone reading this is probably not famous  … so if you have a dress that you love and could kiss and makes you feel like the minute you step out of your house paparazzi will be standing there flashing cameras in your face … wear it dammit and wear it good! Wear it as much as you want, because good dresses come few and far between. I’m not giving you the green light to rock every weekend, because, well that would be a little over the top, but you get the idea.

Dresses are meant to be worn, not to be retired after one wear like a one-of-a-kind piece of couture. Thank you to my lovely friend for these fabulous words of wisdom. I rocked the hell out of my freakum dress in New York City because I refuse to shame another fabulous dress I own. Sometimes … it is okay to not have to keep up with the Jones.

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Jul 13 2011
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Thought Piece, Uncategorized

Truth: The Contents Of My Purse

A lady’s purse is sacred, private … and in some cases, like yours truly … the cave of wonders. Do you ever look inside your bag in horror and wonder, “holy hell, am I a soon-to-be hoarder, or do all females carry this much useless crap with them?” I mean sometimes I feel like a disorganized disaster and shame myself for it, yet continue on with my same chaotic purse behavior (CPB for short).

So I thought it would be interesting to empty out my Marc By Marc, red leather bowling bag and go through the contents. This may bore some of you, this might make some of you with CPB like myself feel better, and honestly I hope this makes people, especially men, not so scared of a woman’s purse. What do they think, if they touch it some weird dust will get on them that will make them lose their masculinity? Regardless … here it is folks, straight up what is currently in my everyday handbag:

-My Tory Burch reading glasses that I never wear (hope my eye doc isn’t reading this).

-My fabulous $5 Forever 21 wallet I got years ago that held strong until recently … I refuse to part with it though.

-Six stray dollar bills … time to make it rain, let me tell you …

-A receipt from a gas station that I refuse to look because what is the point.

-A piece of Victory’s Golden Monkey beer bottle wrapper about a mystical golden monkey that I enjoyed so much at the bar, that I just HAD to keep it.

-A rape whistle my brother got me from REI. Pepper spray freaks me out because I am so certain I would be the one to spray myself in the face instead of my said attacker, so I settled for a whistle.

-A pad of paper for random deep thoughts or if I have to instantaneously take notes someplace important (which never happens).

-My Droid, which happens to look like it is straight from 1985. Sprint … GET THE iPHONE! A huge reason why I would keep my purse neat if I had one.

-Chap stick, Chap Stick brand of course, even in the summer it is necessary.

-Nivea soft lips Chap Stick, for you know, when I want my lips extra EXTRA soft.

-A receipt from a bar … typical and usually another receipt I don’t like to look at.

-My fabulous change purse that my niece and nephew got me for Christmas, which I think is from the Netherlands? I could be wrong, but it is really beautiful and different … and keeps me from chucking my change to the bottom of my purse.

-A crystal piece from one of my chandlier-esque necklaces that happened to fall off. Note to self: Need to Macgyver that back on somehow …

-One blue pen (If you are a writer, you should ALWAYS be armed with a pen). And all I do is write in red pen all day at work, so it is like a BIG DEAL when I get to write in another color (sarcasm).

-Orbit gum, the Wintermint flavor of course, which happens to be the only kind I fancy.

-Claritin-D pills, because without them I’m a hot puffy and stuffy mess in the morn’.

-One hair tie, just in case. Even though I never wear my hair up, I still like to have the option … especially since it was 100 degrees today.

-A tampon. I know that was probably rough to read everyone, let’s take a deep breath, whew. I’m a girl and it happens, we all know it does and to tell you the truth, I don’t like having to carry it around with me as much as you don’t like reading about them, looking at me holding one, or thinking about me carrying one around. And I think this is the #1 reason why some men don’t like going through purses. I mean for the love of God, if you had to carry around Rogaine or something once a month, I would TOTALLY still go through your man purse or “satchel.”

-A Forever 21 receipt … another piece of paper I don’t like to review too thoroughly.

-A receipt that isn’t mine … weird.

-My car keys, because I can’t get from A to B without them, and if they aren’t put back into my purse IMMEDIATELY, they will absolutely get sucked into the vortex of my house, never to return ever again.

-Advil at the bottom of my purse, classy I know. If I’m in a rush, I’ll just throw it on in there. Perhaps it is time to invest in one of those old lady pill boxes.

-A Susan B. Anthony coin, damn you Patco, why can’t you just give me dollars back for the love of God!

-Endless gum wrappers … at least I don’t litter?

-And finally, my favorite … SEVEN … I repeat … SEVEN lip glosses. Hi issues, what up.

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Jul 02 2011
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Thought Piece

Stickin’ It To The Man … Via Your Closet

We all have those bad moments, days, weeks, months … and God for bid years. Those times when pits fill your stomach, eyes well up with tears, fists want to go flying through walls and mascara ends up the fabric design on our pillows … one wonders what can help you pull yourself out of that emotional hole. Who knew the secret key was hanging in our closets.

We work hard to have a “look” and buy the things in life that make us happy (we all have done an emotionally charged shopping trip to make us smile for one reason or another.) Therapy is expensive, “mother’s little helpers” don’t always work, friends ears can get exhausted by listening to you continuously bitch about the same dead end situation … but your closet is always there with open arms.

Sometimes throwing on a ridiculously fierce pair of heels with some skinny jeans and a t-shirt while heading out to the grocery store is just the confidence boost that is needed. Sure, wearing stilettos while running errands may seem a little over the top, but if it makes you forget life’s problems and instead makes you focus on how fantastic you feel … it is worth it.

Life is all about taking risks … and when those risks bite you in the ass, run to the arms of your closet and let the things that make you shine, smile and become the most fabulous you swallow you whole. At the end of the day, I am a firm believer that if you never try you never know, and I also believe your most fabulous dress is better than the most gifted therapist in the world.

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Jun 26 2011
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Thought Piece

Does Your Personality Have a Designer Label?

Personalities … if they were actual tangible things you could hold in your hands, would yours have a label on the back of it, or inside on the seam like a shirt? Would it say preppy, goth, hipster (whatever that means), poser, snob … or something else perhaps?

I get this feeling in our society that we feel like we need to label who we are and what our style is all about so we can clearly define who we are and what we believe in to the general public. In terms of labels, a hipster, for instance, would never walk into J. Crew and buy a pair of navy blue whale pants, pair it with a crisp white polo shirt, pop the collar, slide on a pair of Sperry’s and hit the town … would they?

As I sit here looking at my closet, I don’t know if I can clearly define my “label.” There are plaid button downs (which PS every time I wear it … there is most definitely a guy within 50 feet of me wearing the same one), sequin dresses, lacy, flowing hippy tops, skinny jeans, blazers, faux fur and beyond. I got a little bit of everything, but I will not sit here and pretend I do not roll my eyes at those “J.Crew/Banana” women … because I do and openly admit I would not be caught dead in a pair of “whale pant-esque” type things. And sometimes, while shopping, I stop and think to myself, “is this me, or is this me desperately trying to be something I’m not in order to be like that woman’s sense of style I so envy.”

And in a day and age when people are so forward with labels … gay, straight, bisexual, republican, democrat, and in the wake of the lack of rapture … atheist, I almost feel like to have a sense of style you need to join a “party.” The hispter movement, the preps … the goths … the people who spend too much money to try to look like they don’t give a fuck.

A friend of mine said recently something about not being gay, straight or bi … but a humanist … meaning you have love for every human and do not discriminate against anyone. In terms of fashion and style … that is such a refreshing concept. If only the preps could unpop their collars and put on a grungy $2 shirt from a vintage store, walk out the door with slept on hair, put on some neon shades and live life.

My personal style does not have a label … but it does have stitching wounds from me trying to label myself a prep, a CAP (Christian American Princess … a high school term), a hipster … which I assume most of us do. I love that my closet has numerous layers, colors, styles and trends. How refreshing to have a sector of your life where you can create, form and be whomever you wish every day of your life, as long as you don’t let the label ruin the fun.

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