while i've spent most of 2015 moisturized in a sweatsuit waiting for my hair to grow, the occasional venture beyond The Break looks exactly like this - baby blue eyes, glossy pink lips, and the MAKE brow pen.
if you've followed T(F)H, you know i fiend for the thrill of the find. it's high time i collected on a larger scale.
ryan ferguson and i have worked together for years. as my photographer and best friend, his influence has permeated this blog since our introduction. now, i am so thrilled to announce our most exciting endeavor yet - the break vintage
the break is an e-commerce platform and lifestyle brand that aims to bridge the runway and reality at a price point that's accessible to anyone. our inventory is sourced from all over the world and reflects what you want to wear today. it's the virtual lovechild of exclusive and affordable, and it's frickin chill.
i know we're already getting hyphy for spring 2015, but let's take a second for the present, cuz sandy liang's presence is a present. her premiere collection for fall '14 is exactly how i envision this season; sum wide-legged, pointed-toe, silk-suited, low-slung, XL furry goodness. i suggest you get to know her (peep the just dropped s/s collection here).
Here I am, sitting in my new, and long-awaited apartment in Bed-Stuy, feeling gosh darn reflective; I’ve experienced a lot of firsts in these past few months, many not by choice. Before I begin the next chapter in life, and on this site, I need a bit of written closure. This type of post is new for T(F)H, so feel free to scroll past the catharsis, although I hope some of you find it relatable. Full disclosure: shit’s about to get emo.
Summer 2014 has been exhaustingly nomadic. What I assumed would be a few weeks of transience became months of multi-state couch-surfing, living somewhere between start and finish, miserably incomplete. After packing my life away back in April (including the best of my summer wardrobe), my spirited expectations of a quick transition were shattered by a relentless market. I lost place after perfect place, dragging my feet back to an overweight suitcase slumped on someone else’s floor. Without a solid sense of security, or the ability to make concrete plans, I felt useless, as if there was no place for me – neither physically nor spiritually. Consequently, I’ve been utterly uninspired, (fashion)cashed, if you will, which is why I’ve stepped away from T(F)H all this time. I don’t feel like I deserve you. SO MANY FEELS.
Despite my descent into madness, friends accepted me with open arms and pantries. After every setback, they graciously offered extended stays. The rosé flowed as I gained perspective. I would not have survived without them, as well as my parents’ endless generosity and understanding. These wonderful humans remind me that no matter where I sleep, I am so fucking blessed. But even the happiest camper can get homesick. For a girl who thrives on routine, I was drowning in different, and it was not chic.
Then, just this month, I landed the perfect Brooklyn loft. My stuff is unpacked and I have never been more pleased with my flatware. Finally, I can do all the embarrassing things you do in the comfort of your own home (did toilet paper get softer?). I have my own bed and wifi, but most importantly, I have a space that inspires me, where I can produce quality content that I feel proud to share. BRB while I cry-dive into a pile of forgotten tees and thai delivery. For real though, T(F)H IS BACK!