Evolution of a style addict

My maw maw thought my mom would give birth to me in the mall.  She said she was constantly strolling past those store windows while she was pregnant with me.  My mom said, if she did go into labor there at least the mall was closer to the hospital than the house.  I guess you can say shopping is in my genes; part of my genetic road mapping of life from the very beginning.  I remember shopping every week.  After church on Sundays, while some people went home for Sunday dinner, my mom took my brother and I to the mall. 

As I got older like all children I began to rebel and hit the tomboy phase – sneakers and t-shirts; Aaliyah kind of style but definitely a lot less cute, minus the dark black gorgeous long hair and zero sexy factor. Imagine a Lisa ‘left eye’ without the huge recording contract.  So yes, your average run of the mill neighborhood tomboy.  Then high school came along with these new creatures called boys which sparked a desire to be noticed.  Not enough to want to completely give up my tomboyish ways, but enough to have me sit in the hair salon for hours on the weekends and get a few new outfits.  Though 60% of the time you would still see me in sneakers and a t-shirt of some sort.  The other 40% counts for school dances and ceremonies (such as graduation), proms and church in which I had to wear a dress.

My first year of college, I ran into a girl I had met once previously on campus as I walked through the student union.  She insisted that I was way too pretty to dress the way that I did (don’t you love backhanded compliments?).  Well soon enough we became like sisters and back in the mall I was shopping to accentuate my ‘cuteness’.  This time a door was opened to something called pumps and stilettos.  I eventually joined the college modeling troupe and did a few local shows throughout my college tenure. 

After graduation I moved to New York for my first real job.  I would walk up and down 5^th Ave passing by store windows and the mannequins would whisper about my return to my first family, to my very core of which I began as my mom flipped through the racks with me in her belly.  Some accepted me back whole heartedly with open arms and provided me with great clothes, some even giving me the clothes off their plastic backs.  I would spend hours chatting it up with them in H&M and Forever 21 sometimes saying hi to those in BCBG.  Others would turn their noses up at me, staying inside their windows at Bergdorf and Saks vowing to never be found in my closet.  None the less I still love them and one day I believe we will eventually reconcile.  In the meanwhile I digress and push forward staying in the company of my valued and reasonable fashion family. 

During the holidays they show me how much I am loved and have my favorite - a sale.  I go on a spending binge, accepting anything the mannequins offer me from their racks that will fit, leaving me feeling high on fashion.  After the holidays I thank them by taking them out to parties and events.  We spend lots of time together at work then we may go out for dinner or drinks.  At times their love supply is gone for a specific season.  So I make do with looking through albums of photos in Vogue, Elle and Harper’s Bazaar fantasizing about what’s to come.  They have watched me grow from a baby and adapt a sense of style.  Now I am sharing my lessons and love of fashion here.  Please join me for the journey. 

I’m Kewain {ke-wahn} and it’s a pleasure to meet you darling!!

A fashionista is born

All Grown Up

The look:

Dress and Shoes: Zara//Shades: Chloe //Bag: H&M//Statement Necklace: Macy's