As Defiant as One Can Get

And so, I have again met with the infamous red wall that elicits moments of empowerment, and certain moments of self-reflection. As ecliptic as I may seem, I feel the wall is sufficiently potent in making me feel inclined to discover unknown sides of myself, which I never knew I had. In other words, it makes you wildly chic, and I emphasize the wild. It could be that I have developed a disorder, exuding multiple emotions in very obscure ways; or, perhaps, it's just the color red that makes me want to jump of merriment, or go "in disguise", as portrayed in the photo where I look like I'm reenacting hangman. 

Either way, I'm fond of the red wall. In fact, I'm oddly comfortable with it. It's suitable for anyone of any being, I tell you. In any event, I don't know what I'm exactly channeling here, as I've become cognizant of the fact that my pants seemingly look like they've gone through war. So let's just say I'm channeling my inner rebel, but not, considering I'm as innocuous as a dead squirrel. But the floppy hat, in all it's floppiness, ensures that this part of me won't be shown. Get it? I actually don't either. Let's be candid, I ramble nonsense that's even incomprehensible to those who are not sane. On a different note, as I became aware of how wonderful the floppy hat really is, it's as if I would rather have hat hair than go with my life without the hat. Love is love; love at first sight, though, is bliss.

I have chosen to assemble the hat with an H&M muscle tank and Sexso ripped jeans. Mind you, I have no clue as to why a brand would be called "Sexso". Maybe a premise was supposed to be crossed. Anyway, the Zara Hat and Zara bag merely complement each other like peanut butter and jelly. The plaid blouse which I have grown immense adoration for, has also become to the beacon to my soul. As for the Escada shoes, they're like colorblocked beauty, which I have grown a deep connection with, as they have never proved me wrong, like Mr. Spectacles. The jewelry is your typical treasure.

Photos via Erica Cohenmehr.

All the Fuss: Gatsby, Who is this Gatsby?

The Great Gatsby, a film based on the highly acclaimed classic novel, written by the ever so imaginative, yet brilliant, F. Scott Fitzgerald, did not acquire the positive appraisel that director Baz Luhrmann sought it to receive. Perhaps it was all the extravagant party scenes that were deemed too excessive, or the straying from Fitzgerald's authentic premise of the novel. The focus could have been inadvertently making the film too "magnificent", while disregarding, or more so forgetting the vibrant heart of the novel. Candidly stated by disappointed critics, the film was just not Gatsby. So, how did the movie take such a wrongful turn? The 3D element only heightened the sparkles and the fireworks. But none of that could easily distract the critics from becoming cognizant of the false truth. 

But me, no. I hold a different take on Gatsby: The hollow narrative did not stop Luhrmann from making the film so entertaining and simply, well, beautiful. The picture was a work of art: Each and every moment felt like a visual wonderland, and the lines had such a profound impact, that I could still hear DiCaprio's infamous line, "Shut up, shut up!" ringing in my ears. It's no secret that such a powerful moment will be playing a part in the Oscars; so, hopefully, one of the most skillful actors of our time will finally win a little statue, coated in gold. But that is another story. And then there was Carey Mulligan, who played Daisy; initially, I thought her soft voice and her swift movements were becoming too acted out, almost to the point where you would think she was trying too hard. But then I remembered the firm reason as to why all the minor actor choices of Mulligan transpired into Fitzgerald's sole purpose of having Daisy be interpreted as a heartless ghost. So, of course, the color white was emphasized, especially in the beginning of the film, as Daisy was all flesh without blood, slowly moving in that unforgettable gown. As the film came to a close, I realized that all of the choices made by the perfectly suitable actors were nothing short of clever.

Diamonds and pearls, champagne and fine suits. I dare to ask, what is all the fuss about? If the film has still stuck with you, and you feel inclined to dance on tables and walk with a cane, then you opened a new door that you never intended to open. But more on the diamonds and pearls and fine suits: The closest I can get to obtaining such beauty galore is playing dress up in my mother's closet, as I want to remember that little aspect of my childhood that filled with me utter merriment. Really, though, playing dress up was probably the best experience, and I have yet to do it again. But, this time, with more of the propensity to be a more twenties chic version of myself, instead of portraying a Barbie Doll. It's all feasible, I tell you. 

All the detailing on each tie and necklace probably rendered you speechless. Men left the theatre wanting to rule the world with only so much as a cane in their hand, and women left the theatre wanting a man who can rule the world with only so much as a bright handkerchief in his pocket. Now girls, does that mean we are all Daisies? Are we all shallow creatures? No, the answer is no. We're just inspired, hence the reason for the essential "Menswear I Would Wear" segment of Vibrant Flair. But quite honestly, Gatsby's huge heart that Luhrmann forgot to burst out of the screen as one last 3D effect, had more of an impact on me than all his grandness. A man who is capable of so much love is a keeper. But Daisy was just too ignorant to realize that. Stupid daisies. Their innocuous beauty is just far too deceiving. 

In any event, as I sat behind my laptop one Saturday night, and found myself exasperated at all the negative reviews, discovered mainly on Rotten Tomatoes, I thought it was necessary to discuss the film with you, lovely vibers. At times, I feel so rattled by all the negativity, that my own thoughts are overcome. But here they all are, as I write from my own dear heart, and from Gatsby's, too. Let's grieve Leonardo Dicaprio's final scene, instead of disparaging it. Yes, dead people don't look that pretty. But we can just pretend that Gatbsy's earnestness kept him alive, or maybe that was another one of Luhrmann's savvy points. Either way, I have yet to watch the film another five times.