Anyone else hurtin for a makeover? Every once in a while I feel thrown into an intermediate phase (even though every moment belongs to a phase that is impossibly intermediate) and flounder in the insincerity of the 'aesthetic' with which I am currently, accidentally, shamefully associated. Times like these illustrate the self-automating nature of the 'aesthetic' and its role on the internet; I don't need to actively perform it every individual instance I get online. It is already in motion, working in real time to constitute the overall photograph of my 'brand.' My eyes don't have to be processing 'instagram' as information for me to be on instagram. Someone else is looking at my profile when I'm not, and the still lives I upload dance for them without my enthusiastic participation but certainly with my permission. What makes me most insecure is that permission is not static -- it is dynamic and animate. I permit every second I allow images of me to remain, I permit every second I allow my profile to exist without intervention. I authorize the disingenuous aesthetic associated with my online identity by simply not putting a stop to it. So even though I'm not on instagram right now uploading a photo I don't like that much, the crisis is the same... people are still processing the information already present, judging me accordingly, coloring me in with the hues I provide because I don't put them away. I hate that I allow this to go on... more, I hate that I don't overwrite it with material I do enjoy instead.
This outfit reminds me of a Dior campaign... modish, feminine, bridal but young and rebellious. I fashioned the headwrap out of a pink sheath and flower pin then paired it with earrings from 2001 that actually look like they're from 1960s. Lately I've been pushing myself to explore more DIY approaches to accessorizing... picking out a floppy hat and sunglasses isn't creative enough anymore. Pairing a brooch with a sheet of fabric and tying it together with matching jewelry and lipstick feels so much more rewarding when the result is something as seamless and recognizable as this. The flower girl grows up and gets married... she's in a perfume advertisement, she's bohemian but sponsored...
Chicwish dress, Valentino bag, Dailylook heels
Everything is infinite,
Bebe
Trying this new thing where instead of weather patterns and shifting moods, I talk about abstract bullshit to fill the space. Here goes: doesn't it seem like 'civilization' is this really elaborate and depressing symptom of human suffering, this dynamic fossil of an unreconciled consciousness? People are obsessed with distinguishing human experience from animal life, especially when it comes to discussions about 'capacities' for pain and pleasure. We use the distinction to justify exploiting other life forms for the sustenance of our own; since plants don't have 'developed nervous systems,' we reason, their experience of pain is less significant than ours. Clearly we see ourselves as a species that processes information with more self-sabotaging passion. It seems like civilization is a symptom of that severity since it is unique to humans, but the impressions this life form leaves on the earth cannot actually be 'fairly' measured in terms of hierarchized thresholds. All symptoms of being are severe and subtle. They're all brutal and comforting. As soon as one symptom is presented as more extreme than another, it has been instrumentalized in the process of judgment. So we should avoid thinking of civilization in terms of 'more or less' and instead see it as just this messy and unjustified thing that happens as a fluid result(s) of conflict; the unreconciled consciousness. It's not that we suffer 'so much' as humans, but because we suffer in 'such a way,' we feel the need to impose ourselves in sterile edifices with unique intensity. We're not satisfied surviving minimally because our conflict with the world is not minimal. It's complicated. So we erect buildings and shopping malls because not erecting buildings and shopping malls leaves bare the conflict. It's not that we have to try harder and defensively create more elaborate and lasting habitats out of tools because our experience is quantifiably severe -- it's that we have to try 'like this.' It's misleading to think of civilization as an elaborate and depressing symptom when it's not elaborate compared to something else, and I must invoke my own bias to believe that something existing independently of judgment is 'depressing.' Civilization is not anything but intense.
Romwe sunglasses + croquis smock dress, Chanel earrings + Privee collection framed bag, Armani blazer
Everything is infinite,
Bebe
Posh geometry, ancient luxury, Grecian excess, Italian glamour... I'm back bitch!!!!!!!!!!! Been waiting since the fall of Rome to debut this Vertigo Paris blazer my mom scored while voyaging for vintage. So... besides Caesar's Palace, where have I been for the past month?? I'm not really sure either. But like the Greeks, I've left behind a lengthy written record of my indulgent exploits. I recently traveled to Newport Beach on a complete and utter whim, and before that spent my birthday weekend in San Francisco. I flirted with the Las Vegas 'party scene' for several weeks, but like most great moments in history, that too was just a conquest. For a minute I was even rich! I purchased many satin gowns, colonial undergarments, Pepsi max and a portable notebook 'for my opinions.' My little empire thrived. My little empire fell. Now I find myself alone in history... wealthy with experience, impoverished in resource. A carnal Collosseum, crumbling, atrophied, all the while resilient in my charming torpor. Not photographed: the unforgiving violence of time.
Forever 21 hat, Chanel earrings + bangle, Vertigo Paris blazer, OASAP geometric print skirt, vintage Chanel chain belt, Burberry bag, Missguided heels
Everything is infinite,
Bebe
Hyperindustrial city livin' sure has made me a fan of garden motifs. Not because the Bellagio observatory renewed in me the sense of botanical wonder that slowly faded as I inched farther and farther from my New England homebase, but because in principle one always wants what they can't have. And I can't have plants. Okay, the occasional cactus and evening primrose on the rare chance that I'm driving through the desert. But besides that it's just artificially planted palm trees and potted shrub shit lining hotel walkways. So I compensate with flower-shaped Valentino purses, bejeweled Lanvin necklaces and vintage brooches in shades of jade and ruby. Paired with Ralph Lauren Rugby plaid, a floral halter and Armani blazer, I appear on the carefully pruned terrace a scholar of botany... vesting faith in the existence of chloroplasts and vascular stem tissues. Just philosophical axioms to me, a stranger to nature in this barren parking garage we call an entertainment capital.
Kidding -- put everything I said except "Valentino," "Lanvin," "Armani" and "Ralph Lauren" under erasure. GOTTA GO.
Lanvin necklace, Plein Sud halter top, Armani blazer, Ralph Lauren skirt and heels, Valentino bag
Sous rature,
Bebe Zeva
I was never on any sports leagues growing up and usually sat out of group activities in gym class, preferring to take a zero than one for the team. But for that I consider myself an athlete. See, I'm an olympian loner. I train all year for tournaments that no one knows exist because they don't. And I always come in first place. Isolation, solitude, withdrawal, social indifference... they're not games so much as they are tests of strength. They measure all the same qualities a traditional sport would: willpower, determination, passion, and for all intents and purposes cooperation - because who's to say the Self is one agent and not many working for and against each other at the same time? I don't need teammates to prove that I can make compromises or set up a winning play. For that I have states of mind; sovereign and nebulous, simultaneous and independent. In most cases I don't even play for the same team during the same competition... I play for both, all three, every and none at all. No hoops or hurdles necessary, no bridles, no bats, no balls. Only a court -- the one I inevitably take with me, that inevitably takes me with it. I don't really have a choice when it comes to participation. My only goal is to come out a champion -- by not ever coming out at all.
Forever 21 hat, Etro scarf, Sugarlips blouse, equestrian riding pants, Gucci pumps, Lanvin purse
Everything is infinite,
Bebe Zeva
