SheBreathes™ | Fashion + Culture

Never Wear the Same Knickers Twice

Before the official commentary of the day, let me share a few sweet bits with you.

The kind people over at StyleHive, has my profile in their "featured people" section, and that was too lovely! I woke-up to quite a few e-mails and new visitors. I really do love the ability to store my favourite shopping websites, boutiques, and stores, and of course designers in one place, and share them too!

My sweet friend Bree, who took it upon herself to battle that psycho for me (we call her Lil' Ali for a reason), is having a birthday tomorrow! One of our gifts to her, is a 4 day, 3 night getaway in Vegas! It's one of her favourite destinations -- but me I'm just trying not to melt. It's bloody hot here!

I leave early Thursday, but tonight and tomorrow promises non-stop partying, hold the drinks please, cause my liver can't take much more!

Drinks aside, my hypochondria has kicked in.

I've been having these terrible headaches since I returned from Ibiza. So, me being the hypochondriac I am, ventured over to the Radiologist Sunday morning (NYC never sleeps, not even doctors), and had an MRI. I wasn't the least bit bothered by the coffin like machine, it felt rather cozy to me. I was ready to get to the bottom of this newfound pain.

My doctor called me yesterday afternoon, only to confirm his suspicions -- I have officially lost it. He said I'm perfectly fine, and to chalk it up to hormones (impending period notwithstanding), and stress. He told me I need to "slow down!", so much for advances in medicine. Everything was normal, I was expecting something more disheartening than "woman issues" -- morbid I know.

I don't know why I always feel like I'm dying a slow death, something that my friend Pia always confirms with statements like "you are dying a slow death, just think you'll live until you're 80" -- all in her broken English and slightly unfocused eyes. I loathe her cryptic messages, but she claims to be of a higher order, so I half accept her statements as truth.

Which brings me to relationship habits and knickers. . .

My friends and I were having an in flight debate about never wearing your knickers more than twice. This is a term I coined back in college and it's stuck with every living being, that's ever heard me wax poetics about what this means. It's one of my golden box of goodies.

Never, and I repeat never wear the same knickers twice. It's imperative that you absorb this, that you follow this, and do your best not to be what I call a "dirty knicker wearer".

FYI: For those who may not know, "knickers" are undies, panties, or draws -- whichever you prefer.

Examples of a "Dirty Knicker Wearer":

Obsessive before the first date, so you wear that special oufit (take note of the knickers you choose)

Enthralled by the second date, so you step it up a notch -- which means you'll forget what knickers you wore.

In love by the third. You've lost all memory of your knickers.

And by the fourth date (if there is one) you're wearing the same knickers you did, when you met said individual. This is a sure sign it won't last, not to mention a faux pas, and nasty habit.

You haven't given yourself time to absorb the relationship. Think of it this way, if you wore those same knickers with ex -- what do you expect? If you believe that energy never dies, and all things have energy -- does this exclude your knickers? If you keep wearing the same nasty arse knickers from one partner to the next, don't whine when he or she is the same as the one before.

Knickers don't cost much, so why people don't discard, renew, and get fresh is beyond me -- since it's a relatively easy process. It's more than likely the cheapest part of your wardrobe to update, well unless you're of the La Perla set. Perhaps then you need to downgrade a bit -- Vickies always has a sale. And there is just no excuse for men.

So change your knickers often mates, wash them often, check them for holes, stains, and other unflattering shit, remember which ones you wore with that bloke or blokette. But, most importantly discard them after usage so the ability to repeat wear is gone.

It's not hard to understand, and I'm not being cryptic - pun is intended.

I believe, how clean your knickers are and how often you change them, is indicative of the kind of love life you live and have; not to mention the kind of lover you are.

Now, of course if you're in a relationship wearing the same knickers twice within a month is perfectly fine -- as long as they're clean.

Beijos.

City of Pretenders

That's what New Yorker's are, too cool to ever notice you -- and that includes celebrities. And why shouldn't we be the city of cool pretenders? Since every Jane, Dick, and Toni, wants to be famous, we must be the city to keep it all in perspective, don't you think? I mean it's said that's why the "cool celebs" move here.

I only came for the education, sex, and dreams of writing full-time and not starving.

Now, if it's your job to notice celebs, clearly you're not included -- this is strictly intended for us regular people.

I recently caught a major case of the pretending (as in I didn't see her), at my hair salon with a glamazonian diva, who I've had a few run-ins (excluding her fashion shows). Why I caught the "I can't pretend I don't see you anymore" disease is baffling to me! Perhaps someone can help gain some perspective here. Because I was really trollysocked!

So, I got back from Ibiza, early Friday morning, cabbed it uptown to my apartment, dropped my bags upon entering my apartment, and caught a nap. By noon I was ready to kick back into my routine, which runs like this on Fridays . . .

Manicure & pedicure at Jin Soon - one or sometimes both.

Hair appointment immediately after. And my options, are as follows:

Gerard - when I need to step it up a bit (this fucking man is a God, and super expensive -- let no one lie, his skills are unmatched!)

Edris Salon -  when I'm really going for something special. I've been going to Edris off and on since I moved to NYC, but she has loads of celebrity clients, so I just settle for whoever is free -- it's all good, cheaper on my pocket, and I walk-out still looking flawless.

But I honestly run between Curve Salon and Querida Hair Salon more than the other two.

I honestly use Querida (see Lee, Arelis, or Vicky) more, than any of the aforementioned, but these are the only salons I'll let touch and or treat my hair.

Now, I'm sure some of you ladies are familiar with the "Dominican blow-out" -- these ladies are phenomenal, and if you want bone straight (with or without chemicals) they're the ones to see!

Now, see I fear heat against my neck, or scalp -- so I usually opt for a roller set, with a hand-through lol! Mixes nicely with my natural curl pattern, which is more wavy than curly.

Anyway, I'm going about my day, and felt I'd skip the usual routine and go for my hair first. Querida had to do, I was in no mood to wait, and I knew Lee, would take care of one of her favourite clients straight-away. So I walk in, wait a for moments, and lo and behold Kimora Lee Simmons, walks in after (I assumed) her personal assistant, made sure the coast was clear. She immediately went to the back, and sat at one of the washing stations. I honestly couldn't believe it!

Now, I wasn't starstruck! As some of you will remember I had a run-in with Kimora a few months ago, and my friend Goldie, got me a personalised signature for her book, Fabulocity, so no great amazement, and definitely not struck by her celebrity status. I was more aware of her fab body, than I was of her status. But I'd be lying if I didn't admit, that I wondered the entire time she was there, why was the "queen of hip-hop glam" in my little unknown, salon? I prayed she'd never come back, and wanted to grab her personal assistant and say "how could you let our secret out" lol. I was clearly off my rockers lol.

As these concerns and questions roamed around my head, I somehow kept telling myself, "be cool", "you see celebs all the time", or the more egotistical one "you're practically dating a rock star, so no biggie!". Perhaps it was the setting, the fact that she was in this sacred place, where no matter how much make-up you had on -- you almost always looked undone, until you were indeed done-up again. I mean for goodness sake, some women were getting perms, hair wasn't as beautiful as I'm sure they wanted it to be, especially not around some celebrity, and a beautiful and glam one at that!

Anyway, it was my turn to go back to where the queen of Baby Phat, was sitting. All the sinks were filled, so I had to wait. Our eyes met, and we both smiled at each other, and simply said "hi".  Nothing else needed to be said. There would be no questions, interviews, or gawking, and definitely no foto taking  -- and I didn't have my camera on me lol.

This was the hair salon. We were just regular young women, getting our hair done, this was indeed an off limits zone. It's just the place where everyone lays down their armor -- people see you at your worst here lol!

The entire staff had no clue, about who she was, save for the receptionist, people speculated about if it was really her, because she looked "chunkier" on TV, as one patron noted. But no one knew for sure -- well except me, Kimora, and the teens who were taking nervous peeks, at her. Even they knew about this "great pretending" thing we New Yorkers do.

No one rushed over to her, giggled crazy, or did anything that would cause alarm. Well, not until the very end, when one person had to go and mess it up for all of us "great pretenders" -- she actually wanted an autograph! Gasping could be heard, and hushed whispers between, the buzzing dryers. Luckily for the young lady who broke this sacred rule, she was leaving -- and didn't have to endure the snickers from some of us.

In the end Kimora got those big arse rollers in her head, like we all did, endured a hot arse dryer, in hot arse weather, got her roots blown out, paid and left.

After this, I made a mental note of how many celebrity sightings I have a day. It's quite a few, well I should say a week.

I won't run the list off, because remember I live in the city of the "too cool to notice you", the land of the "great pretenders" -- but I'm wondering how long this city will remain like this, with the whole "all the cool celebs live here" mentality going out the window. And now we have people who are famous for nothing, who live here too -- or worst those reality TV wannabe stars who have descended upon our already tight for space city. Yes, people who've lived here all their lives are starting to ask for autographs too.

So, I ask whatever will the land of "great pretenders" do?

As a recent article in the New Yorker noted, the whole point of celebs moving here is because, New Yorkers love to pretend they don't notice them, and celebs love to pretend that New Yorkers are pretending. Sick I know.

In fact it was after reading this article, that I put thought into blogging about this. Weird . . . I know, but slightly refreshing to know I'm not the only one who noticed this.

What will happen when everyone stops pretending in nyc, and starts descending on every celeb they see?

One can only wonder, but for now I'll continue to pretend like I don't notice my famous neighbors, and hopefully my famous neighbors will continue to pretend they don't know I'm pretending -- just so there is a balance, and maybe the "great pretending" can remain equal.

Beijos.