10.23.2014

ModaFresca Turns 3!










Dress: Vestique, Sweater: Target, Booties: Dolce Vita, Purse: Lotus, Nameplate Necklace: Blue Jane Jewelry, Tassel Necklace: Stella & Dot

I wore this last Saturday. I showed up to teach Pilates that morning in a snow suit because it was friggin' cold outside, and by the time we finished an hour later it was almost 80 damn degrees. The weather is whaaaaaacky in Charlotte right now, but you know I'll take 80 degrees any way I can get it. Come to mama....

I have most of my casual summer dresses packed away, but this Lone Ranger was in a dry cleaning bag front and center in my closet so I decided to throw it on. I added the sweater because I knew I was going to need it later that night, but I assure you that in these pictures I am straight up perspiring. In fact... I distinctly remember wiping sweat off of my upper lip before they were snapped.

Throwing a sweater over a summer dress is an easy way to transition into the cooler months. (Not that I'm trying to convince you that that little nugget of wisdom is a cutting edge fashion tip or anything.) Just a friendly reminder that not all of your summer stuff needs to collect dust for the next 6 months. You can still extend the life of a lot of your warm weather items by layering them. And... don't be scared of wearing white. Not being able to wear a specific color after a certain point in the year (Labor Day in this case) has to be the single dumbest thing I have ever heard. Seriously. Who thinks of this shit? Stupid.

On another note, ModaFresca is 3 years old this month. Yup... it was started in October 2011. I was 31 (ahh... the good ol' days)... and at the time I didn't realize that everyone and their mother had a "personal style" blog. I only ever saw 20 year old, insanely thin women who wore designer clothes, and somehow had the means to blog from a different city (NY, LA, Miami, Paris, London, etc.) every week with them. Super skinny, young, rich, label whores that I could not relate to. So... I decided to create one for the rest of us. The women who aren't fresh off our teenage years, and a size 0 (whatever the hell a size "nothing" means). Women who shop at Target and occasionally Forever 21 (even if they're closer to 40 than 21). Women who work (in or outside of the home). Women who don't have unlimited funds. Women who want to read about more than a 15% off sale at Tory Burch and get sold to. (Have you ever noticed that most blogs have more advertisements on them than content? Annoying.)

In the 3 years I have been doing ModaFresca I have let people into a lot. You've been with me when I have been annoyingly happy and insanely sad. I've written blog entries that have pissed people off, made people giggle, made people wonder "what the hell is she wearing/saying" or "who the hell does she think she is?". You've been around when I have gone through life changes. Moving... second guessing myself the whole way to Pilates teacher training... going back to school for nutrition. You stuck around when I went MIA from spraining my ankle, getting the flu, accidentally sticking a knife through my hand while cutting an avocado (dumbass)... or just being so sick of looking at my own pictures and reading my own words that I simply dropped off the grid for a week or more.

I've shared stories about relationships, friendships, and family. You've seen pictures from 3 of my 4 brother's weddings. You comforted me when I wrote loooong posts at 3AM the week before and the week after my family lost our beloved grandmother. You were with me when I gained 15 lbs, lost 15lbs... went brunette for a hot minute... cut all my hair off... went platinum and back again. You've encouraged me, supported me, challenged me, and made me laugh my ass off with your FB comments. I don't know how long I'll do this blog. When I started I didn't think it would last more than a few months. I didn't even know what it was exactly. I guess I still don't. Maybe that's the trick? As soon as it becomes something I begrudgingly do it dies. 

I know a blog is not a big deal in the grand scheme of things, but it's been a big part of my life for quite a while now. For some it's just a stupid website where an average woman posts a few too many pictures of herself. But... I also know that for others...  it is their break. It's like having a "conversation" with a girlfriend. Inspiration to say fuck it and wear a crop top. Their 3.5 minutes of "me" time. Maybe it's made them think? Laugh? Cry? Or smile. And for that... I am grateful.

So... "Happy Birthday ModaFresca"... and if you're reading... "THANK YOU"! Sincerely.

10.21.2014

From the Mat to the Streets













Vest: Rock & Republic, Sweatshirt: Old Navy, Pants: Marshalls, Boots: Nine West, Watch: Michael Kors, Bracelets: Alex & Ani
It's not often that I do a blog post whilst wearing a sweatshirt and yoga pants.

I mean... not many people (including myself) really think of workout clothes as being overly interesting or inspiring. I have always kept workout clothes and real clothes separate. In my closet and in my mind.

However... these days I am in workout gear a lot. I teach anywhere from 2-4 Pilates sessions a day, at least 5 days a week (before and after my corporate job). I'm not trying to sound like an asshole... "Oh... I work out SO much I am ALWAYS in gym clothes because I am a Billy Badass Boss Bitch in perfect shape." No... I wear them to teach and the other 90% of the time I am in them  because at that point I have lost all desire to deal with regular clothes, or (as was the case yesterday when I wore this after brunch) I had just eaten too much and could not even begin to think about wearing jeans.

Have you ever tried going from yoga pants to jeans??? Shoot me in the face. It's awful. Sitting in denim feels like an ancient torture method after hanging out in lycra all day.

But, because I have less and less desire to be in anything but workout clothes lately, I have been trying  (once in a blue moon when my hair is done and I actually have some make up on) to wear an outfit or two that is more transitional. Something to take me from the yoga mat to the streets (and by streets I mean the Target near my house in the suburbs).

So... instead of sneakers (my usual go-to), I put on these cute booties. And... instead of my old ass Adidas jacket from the year 2000, I opted for this leather vest. Easy.

I know... most of the time you don't give a shit if your workout/lounge gear is fashionable or not, but once in a while wouldn't it be nice to be in Target or Wal-Mart on a Sunday afternoon and not look like you may or may not live out of one of the shopping carts in the parking lot? I mean... there is casual, and then there is homeless. And some days (at least for me) there is a fine line separating the two. Teeter carefully my friends. Carefully.









10.16.2014

I did that. I made you.












Shirt: H&M, Jacket: Lotus (vintage) 15% off on lotuslook.com with code MODA at checkout, Shirt: Target, Shoes: Marshalls, Bag and Watch: Michael Kors, Bracelet: CeleneStones (get 15% off if you mention ModaFresca when you email CeleneStones@gmail.com to customize yours)

Do you ever get lost in a train of thought and by the time you realize you were zoned out you are thinking about something completely different than you started with? And then you're in this weird mood afterwards?

It happened to me this morning after I got off of the phone with my mom actually. 

I talked to my mom on the phone around 7AM.
She was saying that it was Boss's Day and that she had to stop to get her boss a gift. 
She sounded tired and kind of sad (which may have just been her being exhausted and having to go to work for 12-14 hours, but I detected sadness still).
I got sad that my mom was sad.
I thought about how hard she has worked her whole life, and how long most of her days had been. How completely heartbroken she has been since my grandma died this summer. 
I threw up a little prayer quickly that everyone my mother encountered today would be really kind to her.

My mom cares about people. She is a nice person.
 
I started to think about what a shame it is that my mother cannot see herself through my eyes. 
I started to feel bad that my mom has always felt inferior to everyone else.
I thought about how uncomfortable she is in public settings.
I remembered us going to the grocery store right before it closed when I was a kid because there would be less people there at that hour, and that way she wouldn't have to see anyone.
My mom would never speak in public.
Never wear anything that drew attention to herself.
Never cause a scene.
Never.

I got mad at faceless strangers who made fun of her as a teenager and talked behind her back.
I got sad that my mom, the strongest, hardest working person I have ever met was so scarred by other people's opinions of her and their stupid, juvinile, careless words.
So impacted that they permanently shaped who she was to become.
That their judgement followed her and she could not detach herself from it.

My mom was 15 years old when she got pregnant with me.
It was 1979.
She was shamed.
Embarrassed.
An outcast.
All of her children were born between the time she was 15-21.
She was young.
4 kids.
Married.
Divorced.  
People stopped talking to her.
They started talking about her.

I knew that my mom was embarrassed by decisions she made all of those years ago. I knew she was hurt. I knew being around people made her uncomfortable, but it had never hit me quite as hard... like a punch to the gut.. as did at one of my brother's weddings 2 years ago. My mom and I were on the dance floor together at the reception (it was crowded and dark or there is NO way she would have been dancing with other people around). She brought me in for a hug and said... "I'm proud of you, baby girl, and I love you SO much." My mom is really affectionate, so the fact that she was saying these things didn't throw me off, so much as how she was saying them. I said "what's wrong, Mama? She looked at me and then down at the floor and said... "Oh, nothing, it's just that there is a woman here that I went to high school with and when I got pregnant with you, she talked about me and was really mean. She acted like she was so much better than me. But, now... here you are, and you are beautiful and you love me so much, and you spoke so well giving your brother's speech, and you're so strong, and so confident, and people love you, and I just thought to myself... take that. I didn't fail. I did that. I made you.

WHOA.
I got those big, fat, heavy tears in my eyes and as soon as I blinked they crashed down my face and landed on my chest.
30+ years later and seeing that woman still took her there.
That shit is powerful. 
I will never, as long as I live, forget that moment.

I know my mom really well.
I knew that she cared too much about what other people said and thought but I never understood, fully understood, how every part of her was shaped by that shit.
Somehow she raised me to be different. It was as if she taught me to have the charateristics that would have made her more bulletproof. Don't you dare give a shit what people think or say about you, because it does not matter. You are only defined by other people if you let them define you.

I love my mom so much.
So fuking much.
It's unreal. Makes my heart feel like it's going to burst just writing this. 

Anyway...

I started to think what a shame it is that kids who are young right now (whether they are being bullied, or just feel generally unaccepted) are being shaped by what other kids are saying about them and how they are being treated. And I just hoped that they have someone in their life who reminds them that it is all bullshit. You can be whomever you want to be. You can look different, act different, make different choices, make "mistakes", move on, grow, and be bold. Some people will like you. Some will not. That's okay. But. Do not. Please do not listen to that shit, or shove it so deep down inside of you that it becomes that soil your self worth grows from. It can change the course of your life. I promise you that it can, and if you are not careful... it will. It will change how you show up in your one, precious life.

I wish.
I wish my mom could see her how I see her.
Fearless.
Strong.
Beautiful.
Capable.
Worthy.
Shining.
Special.
Extraordinary.

A Boss Bitch. Today, on Boss's Day... and Every.Damn.Day. 



10.13.2014

Basic Bitches











Sweater and T: Target, Skirt: F21, Shoes and Necklace: Aldo, Cuff: CeleneStones (15% off when you email Krista at CeleneStones@gmail.com)
"Basic"... the most recent and most popular way to throw shade at someone without actually swearing. It's a dis directed (in my case) towards rude, petty, pissy women who are threatened by anything outside of their comfort zone. Annnnd it's currently my favorite phrase when paired with the word "bitch" or "bitches". Allow me to give you an example: 

My girlfriends and I walked into a sports bar for drinks one night. We were wearing heels, dresses, bold lipstick, and we ordered champagne. There was a group of women next to us about our same ages (early to mid 30's or so) and they all did this condescending group giggle when we sat down at a table next to them. They looked us up and down and then laughed. I overheard one say... "Sequins? To a bar? Really? Hahahahaha....". I looked at them, and then back at my friends and simply said... "Ah... Fuk em. Basic Bitches. Every last one."


I reserve the word for real assholes. It's not about what you're wearing or not wearing. It's not about how "fashionable" you are (whatever that means). It's not about if you prefer fancy heels and accessories, or cardigan sweaters and flip flops. It's a disposition. Basic bitches feel threatened by anything that they aren't a part of or don't understand. Basic bitches always agree with the masses. Basic bitches are mean, unsupportive, followers who have to put other women down to make themselves feel better. Basic bitches gossip... judge... and rarely give a shit about anything outside of their own little world.

When I saw this t-shirt I had to have it. It was not an investment piece. I mean, it cost me $5.00. I'm sure it will last about as long as the popularity of the insult itself, but I love it. A simple, bold reminder. "Don't Be Basic." Don't be a shithead. I really wanted to wear it to Corporate America, and this (basic) cardigan and pencil skirt is how I got away with doing so (without getting canned). 

In other news, we were in Alabama this past weekend for a wedding. We had an absolute BLAST. Take-aways:
  • In Alabama, college football is a REALLY big deal.
  • Pork barbeque is also VERY important. 
  • Making memories and traveling together. Man, that's the good stuff. Even if things are good day to day, getting away from your routine with the person you love is so special.
  • Champagne... is always a good idea. Until the next day. Saturday was AWESOME. Sunday sucked. UGH.
  • I tested the limits of dry shampoo last week and am baffled it's superpowers. I washed my hair on Wednesday morning and not again until this morning (rehearsal and wedding festivities included). That stuff is amaaaaazing. 
  • I have never been to a more beautiful, heartfelt wedding ceremony. The pastor had known the bride her whole life and choked up while he was speaking to the couple. I was bawling. Best wishes, Hugh and Emily. It was an amazing weekend!