Strike a Match. Start a Fire.

November 1st. Past midterms. And I'm beat. I need a breath of fresh air. I need to re-charge.

The good news: Thanksgiving is in three weeks. That means home, and familiar faces.
The bad news: There's A LOT of work to do within those three weeks.

So I guess I have to muster enough energy and motivation from elsewhere, since home won't be it. And it better come. Quick. Because I don't think "I just can't" is a valid excuse at Parsons.

Big picture big picture big picture.

Alright. Let's go, y'all. Time waits for no one.

Dance Like Nobody's Watching

The weekends have become my running days, and Sundays in the Park seem to be especially lively.

There always seems to be something random going on, and this afternoon was no exception. So I let my breathing slow and walked past the congo drums, then continued toward this group of people to see what the fuss was about. As I got closer, the drumming started to fade and the whatever the DJ was spinning was getting louder. (He was playing Janet Jackson, if you were curious.)

They closed off a little part of the road and turned it into a mini roller rink. And the longer I watched, the happier it made me. It was the greatest group of randoms I've seen in a while. There was this little Asian lady with her sunglasses on, who after a couple of rounds came rollin' by with this big black guy, twice her size and dreads past his shoulders, helping her get her groove back. There was this huge guy with striped genie pants on and no shirt payin' no mind to anyone else. (It might be what Mr. T would look like if he stole MC Hammer's pants.) There were two younger gals hanging out in the center, sans roller skates, just dancing without a care. And another women who didn't have skates, just gliding her way around with the other roller skaters. Each was in their own little world, and everyone was just having a good time.

But one thing they did have in common, and what I found particularly amusing was how much swag every single one of them seemed to have. So smooth. And nobody gave a what-what.

Heeeeeeeey. Do your thhaannng.

Signs Say Yes

This semester I've been interning with Charlotte Brody, a small company out of NYC. I love it. The people are great, and since it's so small I've been learning a lot. What's different about this company is that it's based almost entirely on trunk shows and sells directly to clients. And mind you, this isn't your typical client. Think Upper Eastside, totally GG, if ya get what I'm saying.

Starting this internship was a little scary, because I always pictured myself working with a smaller business like this one. So I thought to myself, "Man, I better love this." Because if I didn't, was I gonna have to go soul searching.. AGAIN??? Well, good news. If you missed it, it's at the second sentence of this post: I love it.

I started a joke.

So I watched Banksy's Exit Through the Gift Shop, and yanno what I said about this Mr. Brainwash guy I mentioned, well, I re-tract my statement. I've been doing research for this project that I'm doing, and while I still think his stuff pretty to look at, there is not much else past that. I don't know that he was really a videographer, or that I'd consider him a real street artist, or artist. Period. Anyways. My opinion is still forming.

Not sure. But I think a joke is being played on someone.

Chasing Carrots

So I spent the better part of last weekend doing homework and felt great going into this week. Mondays and Tuesdays are pretty chill, but when Wednesday hits.. BAM! Any illusions of having a weekend disappear. Such is the life of a design student.

Like a hamster on a wheel, you think you're moving, but honey, you ain't goin' nowhere.

"Life is Beautiful"

I had less than two weeks to come up with a concept.

In my CAD class, we have the option of coming up with a mini-collection for a designer and design according to their aesthetic, or deciding on a theme and developing our own little line. I've chosen the latter.

Fashion Week, a visit to the MET, and a couple of September issues later, I still had nothin. It was the Sunday before the mood board was due, and I told myself I'd take a trip to MoMa in the hopes of being inspired. But on a whim, I decided to meet some friends at Highline Park instead.

On my way to meet them, I wanted to take a little detour to the Catherine Malandrino store since I was already in Meatpacking. (She is one of my faves.) En route, I stumbled upon the greatest little pop up gallery. "Icons" by Mr. Brainwash. I was in heaven.

Neo-pop the size of the walls, I was engulfed in each work on art, getting lost in each piece.

I found my concept.

I guess it's true what they say about inspiration. You can't look for it. Ya gotta let it find you. Because it will. And like most wonderful things in life, it'll happen when you least expect it.

Mr. Brainwash Icons NYC Exhibition, Opera Gallery, Chelsea

#*#(Ffnes*@#

I just wrote a huge chunk of this entry, then Safari quit unexpectedly. F. I'll try again tomorrow.