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 5th 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
