cuff to the chase

I'm starting to wonder if I'll ever revisit these blog posts and refer to them as diary entries. The thought alone has sparked some anxiety that I'm not being forthcoming enough in my copy... I'm talking too much about peripheral details -- weather, vague emotional patterns, the act of blogging itself. Maybe I keep so much hidden because there truly isn't much to reveal. Unlike most people my age I'm both unemployed and not actively seeking a job (or a career for that matter). Even more uncharacteristically, my social life... simply isn't one. If I have to talk to another person, it's either by text or email or social media, on the elevator, in the lobby while making coffee, at the concierge desk asking for packages, while purchasing a pepsi max at the gas station next door, while greeting the bellmen, engineers, valet drivers and janitorial staff on my way in or out of the condo I now consider a safe marble cave. I'm Rapunzel in my prison tower, except I have hair extensions and Stockholm Syndrome. I choose this life. I invite no prince. Despite perversely loving my electively doorless cell, it's difficult to find pleasure anywhere. Music doesn't sound as good as it used to. Movies make me impatient. Narratives delivered through any artistic medium feel superfluous as I'm already surrounded by them by virtue of using language. So I'm frustrated. And distrustful. All in all I guess if I were to treat this blog as an honest diary to accompany my honest images, the only events I'd have to describe are my feelings. Sooooo...

Dear Diary, I like this outfit.




Zara hat, Vionnet fringe scarf, Member's Only jacket, Missguided leather top, J Brand leather cuff jeans, Etro bag

(Thank you for the lovely pics, Mama!)

Everything is infinite,

Bebe Zeva 

fur the record

I feel guilty about pairing this furry calf print driving cap with the kind of sleek monochrome ensemble you'd see at a daytime red carpet event. The hat even appears to be a beret in these pictures (meaning that in the context of this blog post it is one) but actually it sports a modest leather bill on the other side and has overall 'train conductor aura.' And since its luxurious mink fur is spotted, you'd have to assume that whatever train a conductor wearing it is driving will drop off at the nearest farmstead, not film premiere. But of course I stripped it of whatever agri-chic potential it had by pairing it with leatherette pants and a blazer... shoulda coulda woulda. I live my life full of regrets. This accessorizing with a Valentino clutch purse instead of a hand hoe is supremely one of them. 




Burberry Prorsum fw11 mink cap, Etro blazer, Romwe bodysuit, Valentino clutch, Chanel necklace and cuff

Everything is infinite,

Bebe Zeva

rebbe without a cause

I originally wanted to debut this look on a Friday since it's obvi Shabbat appropriate, but it was just too hard to keep my little pun hidden from the public like an esoteric Kabbalah prophecy. I'm proud. Of my Judaism and wordplay and chiffon harem pants. And tragically impractical skill at nailing the punk-rock-Rebbetzin hybrid aesthetic with a wide-brim hat, plaid checks, and Hebrew letter sweater clip. By the way -- those little shiny symbols that look like Pi followed by a curvy apostrophe? They spell the word "Chai" (nope, not a tea latte) which means life. Now ya know why we say "L'Chaim," to life, after clinking glasses of spiked grape juice (otherwise known as Manischewitz).

Not sure that I do or don't have a cause, although I am almost positive the green contacts I'm wearing in these photos afford me the semblance of a shiksa in costume. Or maybe my dysphoria is triggered by the fact that I actually look more Ashkenazi than ever... it's been a long month, bear with me people.

I've been sick on and off since the beginning of this year and it's taken a pretty major toll on my 'chai' outlook. You'd think I'd feel more grateful for those peaceful days in between agony and weakness, but strangely they leave me wondering what's the point of even waiting for them at all. The truth about these green contacts is that the last time I visited LA (nearly two months ago) they shriveled up in their travel case and were thrown away. Kinda like me. Exposed to air, immediately sucked dry of life and purpose, disposed by my own volition. Even more interesting and metaphorical is the nature of sickness -- sometimes it appears in foreign bodies that can be charged from the battlefield with artillery like antibiotics, antivirals. Other times, and more often than not at simultaneous times, that sickness appears in nebulous auras of chiaroscuro morbidity. An uncanniness in silhouette, safeguarded from any biologic weaponry through its infinitesimal form. No dimension, no parameters, just existence. Presence. Thereness. I'm resigned from waiting for days in between compromised states... I seek routines that feel like ripe momentums. Anybody can experience the weightless thrill between jumping and landing. I've already had my turn with that fleeting moment - it's called "falling." When will it be my turn to experience that fleeting moment everyone else endearingly calls life? I can hear them already, reminding me that this actually is life, chai. A series of merciless thuds.

Not that there's anything worth toasting to, but maybe today I'll order a tea latte. 



Romwe leatherette jacket, Romwe checkered sweater, Romwe harem pants, Yes Style wedges, Spooky Eyes contacts, PinkBrix rings and chain necklace

Everything is infinite,

Bebe

shred white and blue

I know, amazing pun. We all know I'm not a patriot so I supplanted the red for shred. Enter my spankin' new boyfriend jeans and oversize blue flannel from Break Ice Trends. I originally intended to couple these pants with suede heels and a leather clutch purse, but on the way to the shooting location with my photographer I donned a pair of beat up white Keds for comfort. Then I saw my reflection in a mirror passing by and realized this, this walking from one place to the next, is the real subject of my vision as a blogger. The candid moments, not the staged glamour. So here's a real outfit for a real mission. 




Cobrashop Bug-a-Boo shades,  Diesel leather jacket, American Apparel crop top, Break Ice Trends flannel blouse and boyfriend jeans, Pro Keds 

Everything is infinite,

Bebe

glamour kills day two: wilin' out

Not every summer-fall day has to pay homage to bohemian sunsets. This look is unapologetically rock n' roll, a theme I haven't explored too often these past several months! Could it be that I've secluded into the shells of shier personas? Identities that don't wear leopard and leather? Perhaps this outfit is evidence of extroverted progress. I'm getting my swag back. It's been a year (or two) but rest assured. Swag levels will return to standard.

Glamour Kills murders the muscle tee game with graphic basics in colors I trust. This aqua is cool and versatile -- packs all the punch I need to get away with my bad girl role. I used to don looks like this on the daily and now I feel so out of my element! What's happening?? Has middle parting my hair pacified my inner rockstar? Thank god for the side swoop. Side swoops and guitar practice. They're doing wonders for my confidence.



Glamour Kills "mint mischief" muscle tee, Members Only jacket, American Apparel leggings, Zigi boots c/o Karmaloop, Zero UV sunglasses

Everything is infinite,

Bebe

tusk and stone

Another day, another gorgeous piece from Elliatt. This creamy ivory jacket is decorated in sequins, much like the Marchesa bag I paired it with, plastered in rubies and sparkle. The look is subtle, if only to contrast the excess of luxury detail. Everything in moderation... even opulence.



Elliatt Muse jacket from the Fabled Dreams collection, Marchesa clutch, Daily Look leatherette pants

Everything is infinite,

Bebe

oh my goth

My new fave online shopping destination is a site called "Young Hungry Free" -- there is literally not one item in their inventory that I wouldn't wear. Okay maybe one but that's still a stretch, and if you browse through their new arrivals you'll see exactly what I'm talking about. That classically Singaporean mix of athletic, cyber, goth, and grunge is perfectly represented by their stock of mesh tanks, PVC minis, oversize jerseys, and holographic pleats. It's my fantasy, and simultaneously a reality, and LUCKY ME I'm wearing a three piece look courtesy of the brand! The Cross Yo Heart tee, Sick Sleek skirt, and True or Faux Leather Bomber are all available for your perusal... and lust. I know the feeling.

Cross Yo Heart tee, Sick Sleek skirt, and True or Faux Leather Bomber c/o Young Hungry Free

Everything is infinite,

Bebe

plaid to the bone

I've long time needed a pair of faux leather shorts like these to expedite the process of picking out an outfit. It's not like I value efficiency when it comes to fashion... we all know I prefer the impractical and consider functionality a detriment to creative potential. But when it comes down to me standing in the center of my closet, depressed stressed and pressed for time, I don't want to be thinking about what political statement I can make with my options. I just want a soft pair of shorts to slip into (and out of, if I just so happen to get lucky that day). And I want my brain to shut up for five seconds so I can live my life without feeling guilty for looking good according to 'normal people standards.' Fortunately, these shorts don't make me feel like I'm compromising my soul for comfort. Maybe it's because the brand is called "Cult of Individuality." I'm an individual no matter how wonderfully practical my outfit is.

Blackfive bodysuit, Cult of Individuality "Tantra" faux leather shorts, Zero UV sunglasses

Everything is infinite,

Bebe