The WKND Social x @Fiat_SA

Like all good stories, it started at a party. Actually, no, it started during my dad's surprise party clean-up. My friend, Kelicia, was over and in between mopping up red wine spills and lipstick stains off of glasses, we were beside ourselves because we really wanted to go to the final WKND Social of the year but our pint-sized wallets and desire for a pretty boy to treat us to nice things meant that we didn't have any tickets.

We were so beside ourselves that the idea of entering a competition with Fiat, wherein all Kelicia had to do was book a test drive and then, should she be chosen, get a driver from Fiat in the new (and very adorable) Fiat 500 as well as complimentary tickets to the WKND Social and the WKND Social after-party and a personal photographer. It was way too good to be true and while I rolled my eyes, Kelicia entered.

And she won.

I tried to keep it pretty simple and try some new things, like let the hem of my shirt show beneath my skirt considering we were gonna have a photo shoot for Fiat. My shirt is from a charity shop in Istanbul, my skirt Pull & Bear and my studded creepers from K&B in Istanbul. I crafted my choker in five minutes before we had to leave from some ribbon and, yes, it was a little white-girl-basic, wore a bindhi but considering that it matched my eyebrows I think I can be forgiven.

We also got to hang and take some really bad selfies (I look like a miss-me-with-that-bull meme in every single one) with Tee Tee Is With Me blogger Thithi Ntetha, who also started and runs The WKND Social. Her braids gave me life as well as those really cute boots.

Kelicia with the other winner, Fezile.

twitter | instagram | tumblr

"Instagram is a job."

For once in my life I can say I've been really busy the past few weeks and it won't be because I'm posing a perfectionist procrastinator, binge-watching Teen Wolf and choking on failed dreams. No, this time, it's half of that.

The beautiful Ogunrombi sisters, Foyin from Dear Solo on the far right. 

There was South African Fashion Week A/W 2015 two weeks ago. Blogged here and here. Amongst getting drowned in dirty mop water and getting an eyebrow pimple from all the makeup, I actually ended up on Mzansi Insider, a local breakfast show, but I missed getting to binge-watch myself. Again, it is a breakfast show. I was also spotted by A Fashion Friend and the Urban Mavericks.

Seriously, throwing it back to about a week ago, I saw Alysia Harris - based goddess of all things poetic and lyric - perform  L I V E, as in IRL, as in for real, as in I could reach out and not smudge my computer screen, at the Joburg Theatre with other Khensani, from Oh Kenzo. Our shared knowledge and love for Alysia made me realise that we are twinsies. It was such a spiritual experience; Alysia is quite possibly a witch because everything she does is magic and the whole audience shared collective pangs of heartbreak because she was real and she would leave after this night.

You're missing the plot in all its entireity if you're not already a fan.

On the same day I was doused in dirty mop water, my class friends and I threw a cocktail party for our parents so they could have a 'let's come up with crazy things for our kids' matric dances so that we can relive our  youth - things like planning their after parties or staying for the duration of their dances' meet. Oddly enough, everyone's parents dissolved into cliques familiar to that of the pre-existing cliques of their children and all us children spent most of the night gorging ourselves on the platters the adults didn't touch and I took a million photos of everyone.

 Mercedes-Benz Fashion Week Africa has just came and passed in a blur of macaroons, free drinks and swag bags. I've spent the past week reporting on everything for Style Africa. You can find my:
Day 1 Roundup here
Day 2 Roundup here
Day 3 Roundup here
Day 4 Roundup here
Interview with designer, Ines Cuatrecasas of Mille Collins here
Elle Rising Star 2014, Tamara Cherie Dyson here.

South African Fashion Week A/W 2015 - Day 2

For some reason, SA Fashion Week won't let me flourish like the faux-bleu eyebrow sporting, based god of turnt down I, oh, so want to be.

Last year, I couldn't find an outfit, was running thirty minutes late and rolled up to the Crowne Plaza Rosebank, trying to pretend that my sweatpants-crop-top-and-platforms combination was a conscious sartorial decision and not a time pressed choice heavily influenced by my dad shouting at me to move it (my African Time oriented ass) or lose it (my ride). And then halfway to Rosebank, I realised I hadn't collected my ticket and not a single Checkers/Shoprite in the entire country seemed to be open. 

To top it off, that was the moment my deoderant decided to find itself away from my armpits as it usually does whenever I'm incredibly stressed.

I blamed the bad mojo on my over-enthusiasm and lack of foresight so this year I had deep thinks all this week about what I would wear, what I would do, who I wanted to meet and which shows I wanted to see. Not that this mattered, of course, because (what might soon be) the curse of SAFW struck again and I got home from school at five o'clock and bullshitted my way through an outfit choice and tried to compensate with blue eyebrows and frilly socks. 

This time, however, I did remember to get my tickets printed only to arrive to the Crowne Plaza to find that all the shows had been delayed due to the Armageddon dust storm forming from Hell (well, Bloomfontein - same thing though). I dabbled in optimism, however, and thought of the extra time as a chance to socialise, take pretty photos and have a fabulous night. My 2% iPhone battery and almost full SD card, however, were not on the same page. To top it all of, all the shows had been cancelled and moved to Sunday night. 

That just goes to show - foresight, planning and organisation mean nothing in the real world, kids. Also, if you skip your 11:11 wishes for a whole week, it will come back to bite you.

 My lace crop top - which ended up appearing a lot more see-through than I had thought - is from H&M, my 'Baddie K' necklace from Accessorize, my skirt from Mr Price, socks from C&A and Mr Price and studded creepers from a little shoe store in Osmonbey, Istanbul that I think is closing down soon (it's also the spot I got my blue suede creepers last year).

 The  real MVP, Foyin, doing her thing as media and grabbing some cool street style. She's been on a really great wave of progress and success which has been so lovely to observe. Khensani, my woman-crush everyday and namesake, from Oh Kenzo, was also there but my SD card and had-it-up-to-here-ness was already full by the time she arrive.

I also met these lovely babes right before my camera bailed on me and they reminded me so much of myself and my girls last year at Fashion Week. Especially the wary enthusiasm they approached everything and everyone with. My heart grew bigger than the Grinch's when I asked them about what they did, as in school and stuff, and they both side-eyed, considering whether to pretend they were in university or admit they were in high school. They were a lot smarter than I was last year in that they told the truth.

And now to drift into school tomorrow morning with some tinted reading glasses and a cup of green tea, pretending to have had a wild, wild night of hemlines and sparkling flutes. Hopefully the spirits grant me some mercy tomorrow night when I tackle Rosebank again for Day 3 of SAFW.

xx

twitter | instagram | tumblr 

Baby, When You Finally Get to Love Somebody

 Happy 10th Anniversary of Mean Girls! Also IT'S GONNA BE MAY! Also, Kate Moss's collection for Topshop launced today. Also, IT'S GONNA BE MAAAYY.
To celebrate the anniversary of one of my favourite films ever, I wore pink because it also happens to be Wednesday! Why is that significant, you ask? What is Mean Girls anyway, you ask? Why was my Tumblr dashboard filled with it, you keep on? Please pick up your orangatan boobs and army green Crocs and proceed to run over a cliff. Thanks, bye.
Don't even get me started on the NSYNC reference.

It was such a labour of love and sacrifice to basic bitchness to find the only pink top in my wardrobe (which is discombobulating - pink is such a great colour). I found these perfectly oppressive high waist jeans from Mr Price yesterday and they allow me to eat carbs and still be a walking catfish (read: this is real progress, Mark Zuckerberg). My socks and flatforms are from Mr Price as well.

As someone who is from Africa as well (and has actually grown up with Ladysmith Black Mambazo), I can verify that we all speak Swedish and that butter is a carb. This is all science.

 The Topshop South Africa Instagram promised a R2000 voucher for the Kate Moss collection to the first people to show up this morning when the store opened. I missed it by thiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiis much. I was really disappointed with the lack of hype from Topshop, the fact that they didn't turn it into, like, a proper vibe and throw a launch party with fancy juices and sweets like they did somewhere in the world with Jourdan Dunn there (I think). But when I came face to sequins/fringe/leather with the collection, I understood why. I was so whelmed. Which is becoming a recurring theme with my visits to Topshop.

 Josh and I threw a little temper tantrum and then went for a carby lunch (WHERE MY PANTS DID NOT EXPLODE THIS IS SO IMPORTANT YOU GUYS).

I AM A TURD

On Monday, my blogger friend, Foyin (of Dear Solo) and I did a little clickety-click snap-snap thing at her house. She made me waffles and pink tea and bacon and I was just filled with a warmness unmatched by the white hot intesity of a thousand suns because having friends and bacon is so nice. Plus Foyin is such a babe, especially in photographs.

 I probably should have left Foyin to publish these photos herself (there are many more great ones) but I really love them and I'm kind of gushy proud of the way my photo-taking (too hipster to put photography) has improved since, like, this time last year.

 This is what the past two weeks of holidays have looked like for my laptop. I'm finally writing again, probably mediocre but better than nothing. I've also found that taking photos of self-portraits makes them look a lot better. I'm not a very strong or confident painter so I've been trying to teach myself these past weeks and, I know, I know, they're rather whelming but it's improvement. I'm just at a point in my life where growth is better than sitting around not doing anything because I'm scared of failing, you know?

Forever
Khenzo xx