So the rumors are true: yours truly is now tweeting and twitting and taking my snark to the masses.


I’m a little Twitter challenged, but follow me at LADYpantsBKlyn anyhow. 


You’ll enjoy every second of it.

I think Dallas is going to take on a whole new meaning in the coming months….It’s about time.

Let us all toast the new appointment of Somalian supermodel, Liya Kebede, as the face of L’Oreal cosmetics, shall we? First round is on me.

I have been mildly obsessed with the woman since her catwalk debut in the early 00′s, and am happy to see more beauty companies are recognizing the diversity of beauty.

I’m sure folks will start chattering about her coloring being an issue in 5…4…3…2…1, but screw ‘em. The woman is gorgeous and apart of a larger idea of what (Black) beauty is.

So pass the Dom and a crudite: there’s another reason to celebrate being beautiful, Black, and oh so flyyyyyyyyyyy.

I don’t mean to be a traitor to my generation and all, but what is it with this recent upsurge of rappers and professional athletes who believe they are bonafide hipsters? Legit style icons?

So their pants don’t sag: this does not a fashionista make. You don’t get points for that. You did not reinvent the wheel, but instead fixed a wedge in its spokes.

At first I thought it would be a great representation of the diverse menagerie of Black male style. Pharrell hit it on the head, Yeezy, too. But Dwayne Wade? Carmelo Anthony? Ha! I can barely count on them to dribble correctly, let alone pull a non-overstylized ensemble off.

It all looks so forced with the two athletes taking in the shows and sites of Pitti Uomo this week, going backstage to take photographs with designers and the like. No real sense of personal style emanating forth, just well tailored suiting (which is always appreciated, however).

Dwayne, the jig is up: Marc Jacobs doesn’t know who you are. Nor should he at this point. You have not shown him, me, or anyone else for that matter how you diverge stylistically from the rest of the league. What sets you apart? What makes you different from say, Amar’e Stoudemire (who by the way has the backing of Anna Wintour)? Take a page from Pharrell and Kanye, and learn about this industry rather than self-anointing one’s position in it.

No thanks!

Last week you were crying in the lockerroom and now you’re gunning for the GQ cover (at least in your head you are)?! Mixed messages, son. Mixed messages. This is not to suggest that you could never be a style star, but until I see some personal introspection on your style, character, and resolve, I would suggest you stick to dribbling in your lane.

…Stringer Bell lives on at Pitti Uomo!…and how. 

I just finished watching the pivotal third season of “The Wire” and I burst into tears at Bell’s assasination. I mean, a man that beautiful, that intelligent…McNulty was right: He had no idea who this guy was.

I wish I did, though.

When news dropped that the lovely July 2011 Vogue covergirl Emma Watson was leaving Brown University due to reports of “bullying”, I was a little shocked. In my heyday, celeb classmates were treated little less than demigods. A hush would fall over the crowd whenever one would roll up to the Rock library or to a houseparty, and a weird feeling of awe, respect, and resentment would boil up inside of you.

Leelee Sobieski was the celeb du jour at that time, and she ran that campus with her elusive, oddball nature. All the “New York kids” wanted to be her friends, she wanted to date my French boyfriend, and I was generally not amused. But after actually hanging with her a few times, I found she was really quite sweet, charming, quirky as f*ck, but ultimately lovely. She, like Emma, did not complete her studies at Brown–but that was too be expected. There were flops to be filmed, rock stars to date, missteps in her career to be made.

Emma is a different story, though.

After reading her Vogue article, I found her to be refreshingly sensitive: a young ingenue on the brink of self-discovery who should have easily found a home amidst the angst and reverie of my dear alma mater. I just find it hard to believe that Emma couldn’t find a friend on that campus after saying things like this: “One of [Emma's] favorite classes at Brown was on the psychology of love. Far from being put off the idea, she remains an incurable romantic: ‘I’m a feminist, but I think what people connect with in novels is the idea of an overpowering, encompassing love–and it being more important and special than anything and everything else.”


I mean, for crying out loud, the girl is a self-declared feminist, her favorite class was the psychology of love, and she’s complaining that she couldn’t find a date on that campus?! Sounds like a typical Brown co-ed to me. She just needed an adorable but emotionally unavailable boyfriend in the MCM department, a class at R.I.S.D., and an invite to an electronic music show on a Friday night, and I think she would have been fine.

In my humble opinion, I think she should give Brown another college try.

Blame it on my Ivy League education, but I’m a bookworm with the wardrobe of a fashion geek. Any day you can either find me with my nose stuck in a book, or my tail in a dressing room. I think it keeps me balanced this way.

The following is what I’m reading, listening to, and debating with my fellow bluestockings.

WHAT I’M READING…
“OPEN CITY” by TEJU COLE
Cole, a Nigerian born scribe and NYT darling, is responsible for one of this year’s most celebrated books, and even more remarkably shares an uncanny resemblance to rapper, Mos Def, that makes you go “hmmmm”. Following the solitary but incredibly introspective life and walks of Julius, a Nigerian-born psychologist, around the electrifying streets of New York, “Open City” unearths a locale that is often hidden even to its residents. Cole’s poised, elegant, and almost hesitant language, tells a sprawling story of a man’s life that stretches across two continents, several cities, and much unspoken pain.

“MALCOM X: A LIFE OF REINVENTION” by Manning Marable
The last work of my former mentor, I know all too well the significance this book has had on many lives. Malcolm X is a hero, and Manning Marable is a saving grace, so it’s taken me a while to plow through. A devastating blow personally, but a triumph for history.

WHAT I’M LISTENING TO…
“Mama’s Boyfriend” :: Kanye West
“The Birds (Part 1)” :: The Weeknd
“Marvin’s Room” :: Drake
House of Balloons :: The Weeknd
“nature feels” :: Frank Ocean
“Glory Box” :: Portishead
“June” :: Van Hunt
“Say You Will | U R The One” :: Mos Def
“Do You Mind?” :: XX
“Dog Days Are Over” :: Florence + The Machine
“Tell Me Why” :: M.I.A.

WHAT I’M ATTENDING…
Kara Walker, “Fall Frum Grace, Miss Pipi’s Blue Tale” :: Lehmann Maupin Gallery, NYC
A small and intimate affair, Walker again crafts an engaging, creative, and subversive world set against the backdrop of antebellum South. Puppets are her stars this go around in this seventeen minute video, and each character is entangled in a (sadly) historical conflation of sex, race, power, and violence. I watched it twice, mesmerized. 

Alexander McQueen: Savage Beauty :: Metropolitan Museum, NYC
Everyday I wear a knuckleduster of a cocktail ring on my right index finger, its bedazzled gold skull gleaming out at the world, with a bumblebee askew on its head. It always incites questions and stares, and at this point is so much apart of my daily life, that I often forget its almost menacing but mostly comical appearance. It’s McQueen and therefore, it makes sense (at least to me): that dark beauty and glamour mixed with the everyday. I will traverse through the crowds, the lines, and the out-of-towners pushing up on me to simply take a look at this man’s legacy.

Rooftop bars :: NYC metropolitan area
Any one will do, as the relentless New York summer heat makes me none too particular, but I did like the view from Jimmy, the James Hotel’s spot, and I definitely want to see what the Dream Downtown is looking like. It’s always a wonderful thing to gaze upon this fair city, as if you’re above it all.

WHAT I’M TALKING ABOUT…
* Brooklyn rent. It’s often higher than you think, but no: I won’t be revealing how much I actually pay.
* Andrew Weiner’s wife, Huma Abedin, who in 2008 was voted one of Vogue’s Best Dressed. Perhaps one of the most impossibly elegant women I have ever seen, it’s a shame her man was besieged by his own insecurities.
*NBA World Champions, the Dallas Mavericks. As a Dallas-native, the week has had a certain auspicious air about it, like I could tell anyone to essentially suck it.
*Hermes bags and the culture that surrounds them. It’s thick with tradition, codes, and insider knowledge: the stuff that fashion is made of.