In winter, when the days are short, the nights are chilly, and everything is too cold to the touch, I am less of an innovator and more of a reluctant worker. I don't really think about how to dress, but rather of the quickest, most painless, and most socially acceptable way for me to get from my warm bed to the closet and from my closet to class (including everything in-between). Thus I stick to a formula, and sometimes not so much of a formula as it is the same exact thing.
I am sad to say that blogspot might be lowering the quality of my photos. Anyways, this was another photo taken on October 8th of Chidinma's lovely outfit, and it took me more than a month to post it.
The past few months have been a frenzy of applications and research with a little bit of classwork on the side, it feels like. Now that all of my applications are completed, I've been trying to tone down my neuroses and keep looking ahead with hope. I'll let you know how that turns out.
It seems that throughout the three odd years I've been here and the two odd years I've been working on this blog, the quality of dress has risen among my Vanderbilt peers. It used to be that I had to scope out subjects intentionally. Nowadays, I'll be walking to class, and I'll spot five people along the way that make me think: "Oh! I wish I had brought my camera today." Well-dressed students just jump out at me now, an almost overwhelming of the senses. It certainly inspires me to photograph more people more often. On Mondays and Tuesdays, though, I'll be in class or research from morning to night, and it makes me feel like a mole rat living under the tunnels of Stevenson.
I love Chidinma's outfit. It was one of those that just "jumped" out at me. The pattern on those pants is insane! I also commend the way she paired a solid white top and a bright orange cardigan. The pants are still the focal point but the orange color adds cheer and ties everything together.
And my state of mind lately has been heaps of laziness mixed with feelings of being overwhelmed. A vicious cycle. This picture was taken on... October 8th? Whenever Arctic Monkeys came to town. It is now November 17th. I am just getting around to updating this. *smacks self.*
At least Teddy's outfit is still applicable, what with all this fluctuating weather. I've loathed 20 degree days in October and have celebrated 70 degree days just this past weekend. It's as if the wintry spirits are working only part time this year, which I have no complaints about. Anyways, if I could dress half as nice as this guy (on a regular Tuesday, nonetheless) I would be a lot happier with myself day by day. Love the sports jacket elbow patches and the trousers. Who wears trousers anymore? This needs to happen more often. I'm tired of the frat short/jeans dichotomy.
As I write this now, my application sits unfinished, collecting all sorts of figurative dust: The dust of warped memories, of unfounded fears... I digress. Luckily, only the school list remains, and I'll submit it tomorrow; I swear, I swear. But summer is now and it shines so brightly that it hurts. It's fading fast, though; solstice has come and past with nary any notice from me. Even as long as the days are, I fear that they are excruciatingly fleeting. How will I ever endure the winter? Street style is sparse and outfit posts slightly less so.
What has summer been? Well, I keep busy spurning the future's advances; I flee within my own head. I stir up clouds of debris just to watch and wait for it to settle. I nurse new endeavors and drop them for the next great adventure. I spend a lot of time cooking. Then, I don't cook for weeks. I'm saving up for Austin and paying off my debts. I'm a guinea pig, clicking buttons, making small decisions that I always double back on. I am roasted on a stick. Sometimes, rarely, I feel quite alive, while most of the times I am just terribly exhausted. I'm a bug on a rock, all skittering exoskeleton and delicate insides. Even at this age, I don't know how to take care of myself, so busy am I reaching upwards that I have forgotten to secure a foundation. Normal, normal, normal. I'm a bundle of opposites, gearing to explode.
Michael took these of me (pretty good for his first time with the camera) in the heat of the afternoon a midst the jeers of drunk porch barbarians. Despite my inclination to resort to violence, I went and got a gyro afterwards.
DIY Flower Crown
Maxi skirt that I've had for at least 10 years... from Kohl's
It's been approximately two years since my mother gathered her things, cut off her business ties, and booked it to China. No, not really, it's not that dramatic. I also don't think she actually cut off any business ties. But for the past two years, she's been working a two to three year job at a Chinese architecture firm. That means she gets to work on designing multi-story hotels, office buildings, and in general far more grandiose fare than she created here. I don't blame her, because the stagnating housing market in America (five years ago) looked like child's play when compared to the booming industry in China.
Though I miss her and I really haven't spent any meaningful time with her since... freshman summer, or even before starting college, I'm incredibly proud of her for chasing her dreams and working so hard to achieve her goals. For anybody in the work force who is a bit older than the fresh-faced new graduates and young workers, keeping up with the standard pace is a noteworthy struggle. Cheers to my mother for her immense mental strength and work ethic, who goes into work on the weekends, and has a will as resilient as steel.
She is also quite a fashionable lady. I went digging through old photo albums and found two representative photos from her college days:
No wonder I am often tempted to steal things from her closet. Hm... wonder what happened to that royal blue coat...
From her, I inherited a love for style, art, composition, and also looking at beautiful architecture pictures on tumblr. She calibrated my moral compass; she keeps me in check, she forgives, and is endlessly giving and inspiring. Love you so much.