I went away. I hopped a plane, cramped for an insane amount of hours, and shacked up in a French château for over three months. In that time, I popped from one country to the other, frequently experiencing new food, drinks, customs and people. Above all, I discovered my fashion.
Coming from a civilization where fashion is perceived as a materialistic obsession to the vain and beautifully obsessed, discovering who I was in the battlefield to look good and stand out was kind of a big deal.
When I came back to Miami I had the strongest urge in becoming the fashion godmother. Somehow, I thought everyone would listen when I exposed colorful boutiques hidden in the cracks of the city, unheard of designers and my genius of ideas that I hoped would click with the silent readers I’ve tapped into.
What is it exactly that I have to say? Miami is more than bikinis and roller blades and I am one of its many lovers.
My escapade was two years ago, so my progress from doofy to dolly definitely didn’t come easy. It kind of trickled from one “trendy” hair cut to a pair of black boots I apparently believed matched with everything. I played with leggings and vests and rediscovered make-up. Eventually it would all click together.
With all the test drives I’ve made, came the big picture. What do I have to say? I wear what I want, that says what I want, and puts who I am out there. Simple as that.
I’ve done my fair share of personal reinventing. Being from Miami, a city of tradition and so many images you have to perceive, it’s difficult for someone to find comfort in their own personal style. The “solution”: dress like the rest.
That’s where I come in. I’ll rework your idea of “fashion”, get you comfortable, and finally accept my colorful world. You’ll never want to leave my Miami once I’m done with you.