Attending one of the finest private-black lvy league schools in the country definitely influences style, and I love to resemble a scene straight outta Fresh Prince of Bel-Air and Gossip Girl. We be on that daddy I need five hundred dollars ish, expensive loafers and sporting heritage… –>Inside Story
Rollin wit the hommies…we fresh out the oven like an insert from “Clueless”–clap for her: Piece and blessing Brittany Murphy. Range Rovers, paid college tuition, pressed hair and fancy clothes. Oh and small celebrations are always in order. Break out the red plastic…
–>Inside Story
Whisper about it–open up your mouth–fix your lips like this–mmmuah it’s me Mr. Popular. It’s called performing–look how long the line is. But thats evident cause yall feelin it and I expected it. Next time you take your picture cut out your face…
–>Inside Story
I’ve struggled with the fact that all of my new friends are designers. Does that make me shallow? I can’t even explain it, but there was a time and a place when we all were pro all black everything-black host, black starring–all black everything… –>Inside Story
Now it’s Fall 2009. My first solo party: Property of October; custom invite birthday cards, grand opening of Cowboys & Poodles art gallery. And you would think after all of my internships and Summers in New York that I would’ve proven myself right? Wrong there were even more doubters… –>Inside Story