Cocaine: White-on-White
As a fashion narcissist, I am obssessed with street style and the way the stylistas interpret the trends for a more wearable ensemble. On of the most popular trends in the northern hemisphere is white-on-white. Take note ladies, this look will be très du jour come Spring/Summer 2014. Although this is a Spring trend, I could not wait until September (spring in the southern hemisphere) to try it out. Honestly I was dreaming about this look for days and I finally decided to put it together for my #ootd.
So here’s #WhatZannaWoreToday
With it being autumn, the temperature has droped a little and that was the perfect excuse for me to dig out my fur gilet from my winter wardrobe.
As you can tell I was feeling myself in this ensemble (even though I could not feel my right baby toe in these shoes). The look of white is clean, crisp and chic. One of my favourite looks du jour.
Shoes: Rage
Jeans: Pimkie
Blouse & Handbag: Thrifted
Fur Gillet: Mr Price
Hair: www.thevirginhairfactory.com
Gros bisous
David Tlale Fall 2014 Collection
Over the nine years since he launched his brand, South Africa native David Tlale has showcased his inimitable designs at all the premium fashion week platforms and etched his mark as a favorite on the South African and African fashion landscapes.
Renowned for his undeniable knack for showmanship and elaborate designs, Tlale’s work is both daring and dramatic—a brand that defies convention and a brand that impenitently employs unpredictable use and understanding of fabric, color and texture.
David Tlale has taken his work around the world, and partnered with a number of influential brands in South Africa. Last night, Tlale showed his Fall (Autumn) Collection at the Pavillion for Mercedes Benz Fashion Week in New York.
The crispness of the structure and nudes and blacks especially caught my eye because of their chicness, which to me, is what Autumn/Winter fashions are all about.
Fashion Month. …
Fashion Month.
En fin.
And this week, I will be bringing you all my favourite looks from Mercedes Benz New York Fashion Week.
From David Tlale to Victoria Beckham et al.
Enjoy
I hate Black Folks.
I hate black folks.
Now before you send out the lynch mob, allow me to articulate my thought process in black and white so you (and I) can understand why I would make a statement that reeks of self-loathing.
Firstly, I must clarify that I abhor the term “black.” It is simpler to use such a generalized category and so I must admit that the term has slipped into my everyday vocabulary. But what is black? Who defines black? With human beings being such complex and unique beings, to lump millions of people into one monolithic category based on vague and often ridiculous stereotypes is absurd.
One such stereotype is; because you are black (in South Africa), you must speak a Bantu language. I will not enter into the “you live in our country, you must speak our language” debate because there are good points on both sides of the arguments and in its heatedness someone is sure to invoke Godwin’s law. It is unlikely that engaging in this debate again will sway my views; I have heard and seriously considered all the arguments. And you can dismiss this rant as that of a foreigner who should go home anyways. Either way, it is frustrating that as a native francophone, I am not afforded to opportunity to communicate in the (official) language that I am most comfortable with. You try addressing a taxi driver in Johannesburg in anything other than Zulu; it will feel like hitting a brick wall over and over. It does not matter how many times you politely reply ‘I beg your pardon?’ they will continue to respond in Zulu or it will take several tries until they concede ‘oh! You don’t speak Zulu? Ok, I was saying …” For your information, I do speak a Bantu language. I speak Lingala. There are more than six hundred Bantu languages and only a handful of those are spoken in South Africa.
Another stereotype about black folks that I would suppose began with early explorers, was perpetuated by colonialists and continues today as a legacy of Apartheid/Racial Segregation is; black folks are simple-minded and therefore they are useless at anything other than hard-labour, blue collar jobs.
*PAUSE*
I could give you a history lesson but I’ll refrain. But I take exception to being thought of as simple-minded and useless because I am black. I am Muluba (of the Luba people) and my ancestors, my people thrived in a civilization they founded in the “jungle.” These “savages” built a great kingdom that prospered for three centuries pre-colonialism, in the depth of the “jungle.” The Luba are a proud people and as my father will tell, we are an intelligent people too.
So when a person looks at the colour of my skin and brands me as simple-minded and idiotic, I picture myself slapping them. Hard. Because I am an intelligent, articulate and impressive young woman, I am not just black folks. How are you going to reduce the greatness of the Kikuyus, the Zulus, and the Lubas to black folks?
And what is worse is you will find a large majority of black folks actually exist.
This is where I become pissed off.
My girlfriends and I are addicted to Groupon. I mean who doesn’t like getting goods and services at reduced rates. My girlfriends and I have been on numerous excursion; lunch dates, coffee dates, spa days; thanks to Groupon. But recently, I we’ve had more complaints than praise for the establishments that advertise on Groupon. And my observations have dismayed and frustrated me.
Of the last three Groupons we purchased, the establishments were run by black folks. Now, I am sure that when these people decided to become business owners and provide a service they were not out to become black folks. Too many black business owners get slapped with the ugly moniker because they do not uphold the customer service/cleanliness/integrity standards that other (yes, sometimes white) would.
It is frustrating that I am more likely to get an infection from a manicure by a salon run by black folks. It is frustrating that after I book and pay for driving lessons with a company run by black folks they will disappear and no longer answer my phones. It is frustrating that I will most likely find a roach in my pizza at a pizzeria run by … you guessed it … black folks? It is frustrating that when we do succeed and steer away from the stereotype of black folk our fellow people will sneer at us saying: ‘Does she think she’s white?’
So what you are saying is that my successes make me think I’m white? Why do white folk hold the monopoly on success? Why is it when I do things differently to black folks, and it works, it is immediately attributed to me trying to fit in with the white folks?
I ain’t tryna be white, no sir!
I am frustrated (feeling distressed and annoyed) that black folks continue to frustrate (prevent a plan or attempted action from progressing, succeeding, or being fulfilled) their own attempts to shake off the vestiges of Apartheid/Segregation and prosper.
There is no self-loathing here. I don’t believe that for my people, the Bantu peoples, to excel in life, they need to imitate white people or be anything other than what we are. The civilizations and dynasties we built before the white man even stepped on the “Motherland” will show you that we have done and can do it again, on our own. Do not misunderstand my tirade; I DO NOT believe that the opposite of black folks is white folks. White is not right. I have yet to coin a term for the opposite of black folks BUT IT IS NOT white folks.
But why must we prove the slave master/colonialists right? Why? Why do we perpetuate the stereotype of black folks? Why? Is it because we still believe hundreds of years of indoctrination? Do we truly believe that we are simple-minded and therefore useless at anything other than hard-labour, blue collar jobs?
I would just like to know why?
Why Black Men Prefer White Women
Save the Last Dance is one of my favourite films. I can recite it verbatim. I can sing along to the soundtrack. And I can mimic all the dance breaks. But only in my house because I am not a ballerina and I wouldn’t want to embarrass myself in public. The basic synopsis of the film is rather straightforward; Sarah is a white midwestern girl who moves to Chicago and falls in Love with Derek, a black boy from the South Side. The synopsis is straightforward but the events of the film are not. ALthough the issues are glossied by Hollywood, in real life this topic is emotionally & racially charged.
In the film, after a catfight with her nemesis Nikki, Sarah asks why Nikki has so much “beef” with her and Derek’s relationship.
Nikki: It started because of you, WHITE girls like you, creepin’ up, takin our men, the whole world ain’t enough, you gotta conquer ours too.
Sarah: Whatever, Nikki, Derek and I like each other, and if you have a problem with that, screw you.
Although Sarah’s response was rather PC (politically correct) here is a woman whose answer was not. In this letter written to Sister 2 Sister Magazine, a white woman gives her opinion on why black men date white women. My sisters, brace yourselves;
Dear Jamie
I’m sorry but I would like to challenge some of your Black male readers. I am a White female who is engaged to a Black male-good-looking, educated and loving. I just don’t understand a lot of Black female’s attitudes about our relationship. My man decided he wanted me because the pickings amongst Black women were slim to none.
As he said they were either too fat, too loud, too mean, too argumentative, too needy, too materialistic or carrying too much excess baggage. Before I became engaged, whenever I went out I was constantly approached by Black men, willing to wine and dine me and give me the world. If Black women are so up in arms about us being with their men, why don’t they look at themselves and make some changes. I am tired of the dirty looks I get and snide remarks when we’re out in public.
I would like to hear from some Black men about why we are so appealing and coveted by them. Bryant Gumbel just left his wife of 26 years for one of us Charles Barkley, Scottie Pippen, the model Tyson Beckford, Montell Williams, Quincy Jones, James Earl Jones, Harry Belafonte, Sydney Poitier, Kofi Anan, Cuba Gooding Jr., Don Cornelius, Berry Gordy, Billy Blanks, Larry Fishburne, Wesley Snipes… I could go on and on.
But, right now, I’m a little angry and that is why I wrote this so hurriedly. Don’t be mad with us White women because so many of your men want us. Get your acts together and learn from us and we may lead you to treat your men better. If I’m wrong, Black Men let me know.
Disgusted White Girl, Somewhere in Virginia
*counts to 10*
Thankfully a Black Man did respond and here is his response. Ladies, please hold your applause until the end;
Dear Jamie
I would like to respond to the letter written by A Disgusted White Girl.
Let me start by saying that I am a 28-year old black man. I graduated from one of the most prestigious universities in Atlanta, Georgia with a Bachelor of Arts Degree in Business Management. I have a good job at a major corporation and have recently purchased a house. So, I consider myself to be among the ranks of successful black men. I will not use my precious time to slander white people. I just want to set the record straight of why black men date white women.
Back in the day, one of the biggest reasons why black men dated white women was because they were considered easy. The black girls in my neighborhood were raised in the church. They were very strict about when they lost their virginity and who they lost it to. Because of our impatience to wait, brothers would look for someone who would give it up easy without too much hassle. So, they turned to the white girls.
Nowadays, in my opinion, a lot of brothers date white women because they are docile and easy to control. A lot of black men, because of insecurities, fears, and overall weaknesses, have become intimidated by the strength of our black women. We are afraid that our woman will be more successful than us, make more money than us, drive nicer cars and own bigger houses. Because of this fear, many black men look for a more docile woman. Someone we can control. I have talked to numerous black men and they continuously comment on how easy it is to control and walk over their white women. I just want to set the record straight.
I want A Disgusted White Girl to know that not all successful black men date white women. Brothers like Ahmad Rashad, Denzel Washington, Michael Jordan, Morris Chestnut, Will Smith, Blair Underwood, Kenneth “Babyface” Edmonds, Samuel L. Jackson, and Chris Rock all married strong black women. And, to flip the script, there are numerous white men, in and out of the spotlight, who openly or secretly desire black women over white women. Ted Danson, Robert DeNiro, and David Bowie to name a few. I just don’t want a Disgusted White Girl to be misinformed.
Stop thinking that because you are white that you are some type of Goddess. Remember, when black Egyptian Queens like Hatsepshut and Nitorcris were ruling Dynasties and armies of men in Egypt, you were over in the caves of Europe eating raw meat and beating each other over the head with clubs.
Read your history!
It was the black woman that taught you how to cook and season your food. It was the black woman that taught you how to raise your children. It was black women who were breast feeding and raising your babies during slavery. It is the black woman that had to endure watching their fathers, husbands, and children beaten, killed, and thrown in jail. Black women were born with two strikes against them: being black and being a woman. And, through all this, Still They Rise!
It is because of the black women’s strength, elegance, power, love and beauty that I could never date anyone except my Black Queen. It is not just the outer beauty that captivates and draws me to them. It is not the fact that they come in all shapes, sizes, colors and shades that I love them. Their inner beauty is what I find most appealing about black women. Their strong spirit, loving and nurturing souls, their integrity, their ability to overcome great obstacles, their willingness to stand for what they believe in, and their determination to succeed and reach their highest potential while enduring great pain and suffering is why I have fallen in love with black women.
I honestly believe that your anger is geared more toward jealousy and envy more so than snotty looks. If this were not so, then why do you continuously go to tanning salons to darken your skin? If you are so proud to be white, then why don’t you just be happy with your pale skin? Why do you continue to inject your lips, hips, and breasts with unnatural and dangerous substances so you can look fuller and more voluptuous? I think that your anger is really a result of you wanting to have what the black woman has.
BOTTOM LINE: If I were looking for a docile woman, someone I can walk over and control, I would give you a call. But, unfortunately, I am looking for a Virtuous Woman. Someone that can be a good wife and mother to my children. Someone who can be my best friend and understands my struggles. I am looking for a soul mate. I am looking for a sister and; unfortunately, you do not and CANNOT fit the bill.
No offense taken, none given.
Signed, Black Royalty
*starts slow clap*
How to (Chicly) do Dungarees this Summer
Dungarees are a major trend for Spring/Summer 13. Yes Dungarees.
No not these …
More like this
and perhaps even like this …
or you could take a page out Alexa Chung’s stylebook and go a little Grunge/Rock/Punk
For me, I’ll definitely take it sophisticated like so
Either way you choose to style this season’s country twist on the jumpsuit, mke sure you stay à la Mode
Zanna
Describe the Ghosts that live in this houe?
Italo Calvino said: The more enlightened our houses are, the more their walls ooze ghosts. Describe the ghosts that live in this house: 
Image credit: “love Don’t live here anymore…” – © 2009 Robb North – made available under Attribution 2.0 Generic
Although the Words Left Me, I Found Solace in a Thousand More
Although the words had left me, I have found solace in a thousand more. Ever since I’d lost my joie de vivre I’d been searched for that wonderment I used to feel at the Little Things in the World around me.
I used to be filled with the giggles if I saw a butterfly on a sunny day.I used to feel giddy at the smell of Sta-Soft fabric conditioner on my cool sheets as I tucked myself into bed every night. I used to close my eyes to acutely feel the wind in my hair as I rode my bicycle. Wonderment.
When I lost that feeling and the means to express it, I looked for new inspiration. Instead of finding the inspiration in words, I found it in a thousand more. Because a picture is worth a thousand words, n’est pas? As I rebuilt my Spirit and found my joie de vivre in pictures and picture-sharing communities. I have been on WordPress in months because I have been on Tumblr. Ce Que Moi J’adore is my Tumblr page with exactly that, ce que (things that) moi j’adore (I Love.)
I’ve literally spent days and days scrolling infinitely through tumblr posts; reblogging, hearting, queuing posts and being inspired. And in this inspiration I have found more reason to fight the darkness and j’ai trouvé mes raison d’être. I have found my reasons for being. I’m fighting the depression because I have so much I want to live for. All of this from a silly little microblogging site. This is the Power of Social Media.
I hope you’ll get the opportunity to peruse Ce Que Moi J’adore as well and possibly find your own inspiration for wonderment there.
Gros bisous
Ms Zanna
The Words Have Left Me
I haven’t put pen to paper or tapped on a keyboard for Release in too long. Writing used to be my therapy, it used to be enough. Just seeing my words on a page helped me make sense of the quagmire that is the jumble of thoughts in my head. It was my Release.
It isn’t any more.
To be honest, it isn’t that I have no words to put out. I’m afraid to write. I’m afraid to see, in black and white Cambria font, the nightmare I am living in my head. As long as it stays is my head, formless, imaginary, I can choose to bury it. As soon as I put it into words, it becomes real, too real.
As soon as I say; I’ve lost my joie de vivre and I’m battling depression, the mask falls away and I’m vulnerable to your scrutiny, your questions, your judgement.
But now, I’m ready.
Every mouth you’ve kissed ….
Every mouth you’ve ever kissed was just practice. All the bodies you’ve ever undressed and ploughed in to were preparing you for me. I don’t mind tasting them in the memory of your mouth.
Was it a long journey?
Did it take you long to find me?
You’re here now, welcome home.
– Warsan Shire
Every mouth you’ve kissed ….
“Every mouth you’ve ever kissed was just practice. All the bodies you’ve ever undressed and ploughed in to were preparing you for me. I don’t mind tasting them in the memory of your mouth.
Was it a long journey?
Did it take you long to find me?
You’re here now, welcome home.”
– Warsan Shire
Our Job is to Love
Love is an action, a choice.
Love is not really an emotion.
To Love someone is to choose to show up to be devoted to The Divine through that person.
So often in life these days we think that Love is easy or that Love only feels good, but that is not the full extent of what Love is – especially relationship Love.
People think that relationship Love is something that must mask your true feelings, it must always be a euphoric high of some kind or that Love must be a trade.
But that’s not what Love is.
Love is a constant offering to serve to Heart of the person you are in a relationship with. Love is a constant surrendering of your protective ego, so that the Heart can open even more and show you the unknown beauty of its depths.
Love transcends language, religion and belief systems. Love is the deepest gift that we could ever be given by someone and it’s the greatest gift that we could ever give ourselves.
Love is not a trade. Love is not a power trip. Love is not some grandiose expression of infatuation. Love is a humble and subtle power that guides us to grow into titans of giving.
Love asks us to see beyond the fear of our partner, to dive deeper than their ego would want us to and to not leave, even when all that is triggering us wants us to run.
Love shows up when fear is present and asks for more… Love is bigger, Love is brighter, Love is more powerful than any other force in the Uni-verse, because at the core of every cell in the Uni-verse is the deep yearning and desire to Love and be Loved.
Love does not march in with pomp and circumstance. Love whispers. Love silently beckons us to get over ourselves so that we can see the beauty that lay within us and every other sacred soul.
We were not sent to judge, for judgment is just a request for Love. We were sent to Love the parts of ourselves and the world that lack it. We were sent to be the Love in the seeming void of Love.
We, indeed, are the answer. No one is coming, for we have already come.
Our job is to wake up to Love and then be it.
Our job is to Love.
34 excuses for why we failed at love.
1. I’m lonely so I do lonely things.
2. Loving you was like going to war, I never came back the same.
3. You hate women, just like your father and his father, so it runs in your blood.
4. I was wandering the derelict car park of your heart looking for a ride home.
5. You’re a ghost town I’m too patriotic to leave.
6. I stay because you’re the beginning of the dream I want to remember.
7. I didn’t call him back because he likes his girls voiceless.
8. It’s not that he’s wants to be a liar, it’s just that he doesn’t know the truth.
9. I couldn’t love you, you were a small war.
10. We covered the smell of loss with jokes.
11. I didn’t want to fail at love like our parents.
12. You made the nomad in me build a house and stay.
13. I’m not a dog.
14. We were trying to prove our blood wrong.
15. I was still lonely so I did even lonelier things.
16. Yes, I’m insecure, but so was my mother and her mother.
17. No, he loves me he just makes me cry a lot.
18. He knows all of my secrets and still wants to kiss me.
19. You were too cruel to love for a long time.
20. It just didn’t work out.
21. My dad walked out one afternoon and never came back.
22. I can’t sleep because I can still taste him in my mouth.
23. I cut him out at the root , he was my favourite tree, rotting, threatening the foundations of my home.
24. The women in my family die waiting.
25. Because I didn’t want to die waiting for you.
26. I had to leave, I felt lonely when he held me.
27. You’re the song I rewind until I know all the words and I feel sick.
28. He sent me a text that said ‘I love you so bad’
29. His heart wasn’t as beautiful as his smile.
30. We emotionally manipulated one another until we thought it was love.
31. Forgive me, I was lonely so I chose you.
32. I’m a lover without a lover
33. I’m lovely and lonely.
34. I belong deeply to myself.
– Warsan Shire
After A While
After a while you learn the subtle difference
Between holding a hand and chaining a soul,
And you learn that love doesn’t mean leaning
And company doesn’t mean security.
And you begin to learn that kisses aren’t contracts
And presents aren’t promises,
And you begin to accept your defeats
With your head up and your eyes open
With the grace of a woman, not the grief of a child,
And you learn to build all your roads on today
Because tomorrow’s ground is too uncertain for plans
And futures have a way of falling down in mid-flight.
After a while you learn…
That even sunshine burns if you get too much.
So you plant your garden and decorate your own soul,
Instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers.
And you learn that you really can endure…
That you really are strong
And you really do have worth…
And you learn and learn…
With every good-bye you learn.
— by Veronica A. Shofstall
42 Life Lessons From ‘Mean Girls’
by Nico Lang.
Mean Girls is nothing if not a fountain of knowledge, passed down from Tina Fey as a gift to girls, gays and all gentle humanfolk for the ages. Fey’s magnum opus instructs us about how to live and in this crazy world, one where you could get diarrhea in a Barnes and Noble or be mistaken for Danny DeVito. This list details but a few of the wisdom nuggets Tina Fey hath bequeathed to us. Learn from it, and go forth and make girl world a better place for all.
1. You can’t wear a tank top two days in a row, and you can only wear your hair in a ponytail once a week. This teaches us to keep it fresh every day, in order to better shake that thang for Kevin Gnapoor.
2. You have your cousins, your first cousins and your second cousins. Although I’m still not sure which it’s okay to make out with. (Answer: none of the above, really.)
3. Someone had to invent Toaster Strudel.
4. Sears carries clothing for women of all sizes, which is great if you’re unknowingly eating 5,000 calories a day.
5. You can be African and be white, but you cannot ask people why they are white. Also, never assume that the black girl in your class is the African exchange student. She could be from Michigan.
6. Also, if you’re an exchange student from Africa, don’t assume the black students speak Swahili. You might think that saying “Jambo!” is a token of being down, but it just makes you look like a weirdo.
7. Joining Mathletes is social suicide, but you do get some sweet jackets out of the deal. If you need a last minute ensemble for the Spring Fling.
8. If you want to create a burn book but don’t want people to think it was you, just call yourself a “fugly slut.” No one will ever suspect.
9. There are two kinds of evil people in this world. Those who do evil stuff and those who see evil stuff being done and don’t try to stop it. That’s a Martin Luther King quote, right?
10. Everyone in Africa can read Swedish. Except for Charlize Theron: she reads minds.
11. If you don’t want to get busted for having a party, don’t leave your mother’s fertility vase of the Ndebele tribe under the sink. Rookie mistake.
12. Just ask Andrea Dworkin: feminism has rules. Rule #1: Ex-boyfriends are off-limits to friends.
13. To attend a school rally, you don’t even have to go to that school. All you need is a lot of feelings. (In other news, you can bake a cake out of rainbows and smiles, but what would it taste like?)
14. Sometimes that word vomit is actual vomit.
15. If you cut off all of your hair, you might look like a British man. (See also: Miley Cyrus.)
16. You can be too gay to function. (See also: Taylor Lautner.)
17. “Frenemies” are enemies that act like friends. You may also refer to them as “enemends.” Friends who secretly hate you are called “fraitors.”
18. If you’re on an all-carb diet, you can’t go to Taco Bell. You also probably shouldn’t go to Taco Bell (like, ever) if your intention is to lose three pounds or any weight at all.
19. Forecasting whether it’s already raining with your breasts is a marketable skill.
20. If you have sex, you will get pregnant. And die. This fact is backed up by science.
21. To fit in with the popular girls, all you need to do is talk about hair products and Ashton Kutcher. And, no, Ashton Kutcher is not a band.
22. Being named after a bisexual folk singer doesn’t make you a lesbian. You could just be Lebanese.
23. You can be half a virgin and still give someone everything. I’m assuming “everything” means anal.
24. Xylocarp is a real word that you now know how to spell. I think it’s a fish?
25. If you want to break up someone’s relationship, all you need to do is prank call their mother and pretend to be from Planned Parenthood. Haven’t you always kind of wanted to do this?
26. If you have a heavy flow and a wide set vagina or are gap-toothed, it’s not your fault. Baby, you were born this way.
27. Brutus is just as cute as Caesar. Brutus is just as popular as Caesar. People totally like Brutus just as much as they like Caesar. Because Rome is not about one person being the boss of everybody. This is the foundations of democracy, and I think it might be somewhere in our Constitution.
28. Butter is a carb. Also science.
29. Chase Visa only has one representative and his name is Randy.
30. You can be a high school student and still do car commercials in Japan. Allegedly.
31. It only counts if you saw nipple.
32. Fetch is slang from England, but it will never happen in America. Other things that will never happen in America: Jason Statham.
33. If you make out with a hot dog, it’s defensible if it’s only one time. Call it the Oscar Meyer Defense.
34. When communicating with your superior, you should do so when your shirt isn’t see-through.
35. If you break up with your gay BFF, he will want his pink shirt back.
36. Cady might look like its pronounced “caddie,” but it’s actually pronounced “Katie.” However, that doesn’t mean your best friends won’t still call you “caddie.” And if you have a nephew named “Anfernee,” calling him “Anthony” makes him almost as mad as you get when you think about the fact that your sister named him “Anfernee.”
37. When you like a guy, “grool” counts as a real word.
38. On the third day, God created the Remington Bolt Action Rifle so that man could fight the dinosaurs and the homosexuals. Luckily, the homosexuals had something to fight back with. We have Ellen.
39. Your hair can be full of secrets and insured for up to $10,000. Also, both your Nana and Tina Fey take their wigs off when they are drunk and a wig can be made out of your mother’s chest hair. This fact makes you look at Tina Fey very differently.
40. In girl world, you cannot buy a skirt without asking your friends if it looks good on your first. However, if it’s the “ugliest effing skirt [she’s] ever seen,” she might lie to you and say she likes it. Girl world is tricky like that.
41. If something is 120 calories with 48 calories from fat, that’s 40 percent calories from fat, which you can figure out if you cross-multiply. Girls CAN do math, sexists.
42. How much can you quote and paraphrase Mean Girls in one article? The limit does not exist.
Once Upon a Time in The Place Where The Sun Rises
In my funeral Black and with a Heavy Heart unto The Place Where The Sun Rises.
A place of eternal childhood where love is free and I am without a care. Where I laugh. Where I rest and am at rest
A place where my Heavy Heart once smiled and once soared in the Endless Blue of Bliss.
But today as I return to The Place Where The Sun Rises in my Funeral Black, my Heavy Heart cannot soar. It is weighted to the ground with sadness and anchored to the earth by despair.
Look up. We see the Endless Blue of Bliss, my Heavy Heart and I. And as the sky is to a wingless creature, that Bliss is far beyond the reach of my Heavy Heart. Impossible to touch. And yet my Heavy Heart yearns to soar again.
She envies the Carefree Hearts that soar in the Endless Blue of Bliss, relieved of all burdens of sadness and oblivious to despair.
Embraced by the beauty of Mother Nature and her ethereal peace, my Heavy Heart contemplates the finality of death and the anxiety brought by grief. Even Mother Nature’s embrace cannot bring comfort to my Heavy Heart.
Today, in the Place Where The Sun Rises, in my Funeral Black, my Heavy Heart and I weep
Newtown – One of the 50 Most Stylish Neighbourhoods in The World
I make no secret of my love for my adopted home city. From the Jacaranda lined streets of Rosebank and Parkhurst, to the CBD, Hillbrow and Yeoville.
I’m just as at ease on the streets of the streets of Alexandra; trying to cross the road with a family of goats hoping none of us will be made roadkill by the daredevil taxi drivers. And I am just at ease in Tasha’s Le Parc in Hyde Park hob-knobbing it with black diamonds, old money and wannabes. I ♥ JHB
And it seems the world is waking up and falling in love with my city too. Complex Magazine did a list of the 50 Most Stylish Neighbourhoods in the World. I right there with Harlem, Bacongo and San Rafael was our very own Newtown.
This suburb of Joburg is currently being refashioned as a multi-purpose area rife with cultural outlets. Any up-and-coming artists looking to make it must do so here first, a testament to Newtown’s history as a the creative “place to be” in Johannesburg. One of its most famous attractions is the Market Theatre, which opened in 1976 as a non-racial theater during apartheid. During the ’80s, it became one of the few places that blacks and whites could interact peacefully, and several anti-apartheid plays were performed here. It’s also home to several museums, such as the SAB World of Beer, a beer museum which is every bit as cool as it sounds.
Bisous
Ms Zanna
I Pray …
Photo Credit: Tommy Ton from Jak & Jil
I pray that in my old age, I’ll have the chutzpah to wear what I please and embrace my eccentricities. Throw away my insecurities and yell, “to hell with them that don’t like me!”
I pray that in my old age, I will have lived a life worth reliving, again and again in my memories. That I will walking around with an ever-present grin on my face, everyday, because each of my memories will make me smile.
I pray that I am blessed enough to age.
Ladies, Shut Up And Eat The Damned Cookie
Lord knows I love carbohydrates, especially of the dessert kind. I find it strange that on one of my health binges I will violently crave a little piece of fried dough with a hole in the middle, dripping in chocolate or caramel sauce. I salivate at the thought, I mean I can literally taste it. There are few pleasures in this world that are as direct and as pure as eating a freshly-made dessert. From something as simple as Nutella on a spoon to cupcakes to ice cream to beignets and doughnuts. I unashamedly treat my sweet tooth every once in a while (read probably more often than I should) to the vices it craves.
Imagine a life without a custard danish every now and again – it’s a bleak and desolate picture. It’s a fate I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. We should enjoy our sugary treats for all they’re worth. The idea that something so simply perfect could become so bastardized is tragic. But it seems that even the eating of a fresh-fried beignets covered in sugar is not sacred anymore. It’s no longer pure indulgence.
Especially for females. Chopping on some s’mores is usually accompanied by an annoying soliloquy along the lines of “Oh my goodness, this is so bad for me.” or “Do you know how many calories are in this.” And of course my favourite, “I’m normally not such a pig. I NEVER eat sweets.” Yeah right, who are you trying to fool? We all know that, like the rest of us, every bite is almost orgasmic and that chocolate milkshake you’re washing it down with is the highlight of a week that was filled with carrot sticks and broccoli.
NEWS FLASH DARLINGS! IT’S OKAY TO ENJOY YOUR DESSERTS.
We need to stop acting like this is some tortured love story. Life will go on after this. Cake is yummy, just enjoy it! You shouldn’t sully it with your shamed commentary. There’s no need for that nonsense! Indulging in a dessert is an experience that should be put on highest of pedestals. For me, the feeling I get from eating Oreos and milk, comes second only to the afterglow of a successful shopping spree.
But if you really are that tortured about eating the damned dessert, if you are really that incapable of fully enjoying it, then … Put. The. Chocolate-Chip-Cookie. Down. Turn around and walk away slowly. It’s that easy. If you can’t then eat the damned thing but please spare me and your friends and your boyfriend the story of how you’re gonna ge “soooo freaking fat” from ONE Crème Brûlée. *rolls eyes*
Now … dessert anyone?
Bisous
MsZanna
A Little Inspiration
“Go to your fears, sit with them, stare at them. Your fears are your friend, their only job is to show you undeveloped parts of yourself that you need to cultivate to live a happy life. The more you do the things you’re most afraid of doing the more life opens up. Embrace your fears and your fears will embrace you.”
– Jackson Kiddard
Tea at the Westcliff
It’s no secret that I love my adoptive city of Johannesburg. Occasionally, it has been compared to New York City and this irks me. I haven’t been to New York City yet, but how can they compare the world’s largest man-made forest to the concrete megalopolis that is the Big Apple? Unfathomable.
As a Joburger, I thought I was pretty well acquainted with my city, but the last few weeks, I have found myself a tourist in my own hometown. Seeing it from new vantage points has re-ignited the love I have for Egoli – the city of Gold.
The Westcliff Hotel
On a brisk Saturday afternoon, my sister Billy and I were fortunate enough to have been invited in from the biting cold by Gabi Palmer, the PR Maven at the Westcliff Hotel in Parktown. As the shuttle drove us uphill through the lush garden haven to La Belle Terrasse, I caught my sister’s eye, smiled and we giggled excitedly. Afternoon Tea, similar to the Teas enjoyed by 19th century high society misses, wasn’t an entirely awful way to spend our Saturday afternoon.
The Westcliff has a bird’s eye view of Johannesburg and on a clear day like today, you can see as far as Soweto in the South and Sandton in the North. And you could almost forgive foreigners for believing wild animals frolic in our backyards as the elephants amble lazily at the Zoo, a stone-throw away.
Gabi greeted us with a warm hug and a glass of bubbly before introducing Chef Klaus Beckmann, pastry chef Lindy Pretorious and sommelier Bongani Ngwenya. Despite the elevated elegance of our luxurious surroundings, any hoity toity airs and graces I wanted to adopt melted away at the warmth of Chef Klaus’ voice as he described the new yummy menu at La Belle Terrasse. I could describe the menu as scrumptious, mouth-watering and delectable but when he described Asian bites such as sushi and dim sum, steamed soy eggs and spicy noodle salads; heart-warming and tasty tomato soup with fresh basil; and the all-new sirloin roast beef sandwich with finely sliced meat piled high on 100% rye bread, along with baby gem chiffonade, creamy horseradish, hot mustard, piccalilli and spicy tomato salsa, the word yummy was all that I could think of.
As if I couldn’t already hear the buttons on my jeans popping, Lindy pointed to the desserts and pastries table piled high with fluffy scones served with farm-style clotted cream, red velvet cupcakes, baked cheesecake, carrot cake, melktert, double rich chocolate brownies, scrumptious fruit tartlets and bowls of freshly sliced fruit.
Bongani was hardly selfish with the wines either, as he poured me another glass of Elgin’s Sauvignon Blanc, I invited him to sit and have a glass with me so that we could talk shop. “I’ll sit with you,” he said, “but it’s dangerous for me to drink on the job.” In choosing the wine list to compliment the menu, Bongani told me that the first question he asks his patron is, “What do you enjoy?” “There’s no point in offering you a sauvignon blanc if you prefer red wine.” When I told him that I did indeed prefer red wine, he poured me a glass of gorgeous, fresh 2010 Rosé wine named Camissa from Avondale. As I nibbled on my sweet pastries, I picked up hints of Turkish Delight and lemon zest attest that went perfectly with the acidity. “It’s an organic wine,” Bongani told me, “it appears sweet but it finishes completely dry and compliments your desserts perfectly don’t you think?” As I sipped agreed, it did.
Billy and I both agreed that our diets would have to be put on hold and that Monday we would repent for our gluttony and pay penance on the treadmill, but fo r today we would slip away from the frenetic city life into a world of refined sophistication and languidly indulge. And indulge we did.
Zanna & Billy. We were so full.
This is a little Cheesy.
I’m procrastinating, I should be writing reviews and a couple of pressers. But here I am, on the net; Tweeting, Youtubing, WordPressing and Pinteresting. Yes, those are all actual verbs, look them up in Merriam Webster’s.
Here’s a quick post. It’s a little cheesy though but read it anyway so that I don’t feel as if I procrastinated in vain.
I used to get offended when people called me a “Cheesegirl,” it was always said in a disparaging, almost insulting tone. Said in a way that should make me ashamed of the blessings in my life. Nowadays I shrug it off; I am privileged and do not apologize for it. I may live my life in unapologetically but I can’t be all hoity toity with a silver spoon in my mouth when across the highway, a woman my age starves. The only difference between her and I are the circumstances of our births. It just so happened that I was born on the “right side of the M1 highway.” She is no less human than I and I am no better than her. I got a leg-up, why not help someone else out? You know, give free rein to the do-gooder in me.
And besides, nowadays being a Cheesegirl and a do-gooder has gotten major “cool” points thanks to my fellow Model-C compatriots over at Cheesekids. In case you haven’t heard of Cheesekids [WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?] check out their website. I haven’t gotten my hands dirty in a while [ *shame on me* ] but this weekend, I’m rolling up my sleeves, maybe even getting a little dirt under my manicured nails.
Here’s what we Cheesekids have planned for Saturday.
A recreated 1976 March in Soweto with stops to paint and beautify 4 schools along the route. If you’d like to join in, you can either come to the March and March to Work or come in time to join the working.
Start Times: 6am for the March | 10am for the Work.
Venue: Isaac Morrison High, Jabavu, for the March | Venue Details for Work on RSVP
We will have a shuttle from the Rosebank Gautrain Station at 5am, 9am and 11am.There are more details about the event on the Cheesekids website and on RSVP.
I am dragging all my girls along, by their weaves and maybe I’ll bring my camera crew. Yes, I roll with a camera crew. *chuckles* [That’s an inside joke.]
Saturday, June 16. Be there. Now let me get back to my day job.
*pretends to log off from the interweb*
Bisous
Ms Zanna
The Spear by Brett Murray Defaced at the Goodman Gallery.
Do you think it was staged? Was the aggression by the security guard necessary? Is the furor over the painting necessary? Your thoughts?
Here Mommy, Have a Break.
I adore my mother. Nobody could ever replace her. Nobody could love me more than she does and nobody can compare to her. Every Mother’s Day I try to repay for the grey hairs I put on her head during my capricious teen years. The older I get, the harder it is to find inventive. At 23, a hand-made card and flowers I picked from HER garden stopped being adorable.
My Mommy Dearest this past Christmas
So I asked the mothers in my life for ideas, to get it from the horse’s mouth so to speak. Would you like to know what to give Mommy Dearest this Sunday? Give Mommy a break. That’s all she wants, a break from playing chauffeur, housekeeper, homework assistant, chef, doctor, personal ATM and all the other roles that come with being a mother. And by a break, I don’t mean a Kit Kat.
Here Mom, have a Break.
Cook (or cheat and Buy) her Favourite Restaurant Meal. Does she love the Wolves Meatball Sub or the Alabama Chicken Sandwich and Mugg & Bean? Why not ask the restaurant for the recipe and cook it for her at home. She’ll appreciate the effort it took for you to make her favourite meal. If you’re not a Master Chef in the kitchen, you could cheat and buy it. Either way she’ll appreciate not having to play chef and housekeeper for one night so when you’re done, wash the dishes.
Take her to the Movies. In the Living Room. Rent a few of her favourite films, provide snacks and set up your very own cinema in the living room. Then kick back and relax with Mom on the couch. There’s no need to drive so she’ll appreciate not having to play chauffeur and personal ATM at the movies. Don’t forget the popcorn. And to clean up when you’re done.
Mani, Pedi, Facial Anyone? What woman doesn’t like to be pampered like a princess? And your mother is no exception; she is a woman after all. Book her into a day spa: Camelot Spa at Villa d’ Este in Johannesburg and at The Table Bay in Cape Town are exceptional and Mangwanani Spas are peppered all over the country and are internationally renowned. Many spas offer Mother’s Day specials, so book your mother in for a few treatments and she’ll come out feeling a serene goddess. But remember she’s on a break so play chauffeur and ATM for her on the day.
There are plenty of other things you can do for Mom to show her you love and appreciate her; Mother’s Day picnic at the zoo, walking through the trails at Melville Koppies or Tygerberg, cook her breakfast in bed or organise drinks date with her girlfriends. Remember though she deserves it so give her a break. And a Kit Kat chocolate wouldn’t hurt either.
HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY MOMMY
Mommy & I in 2008. People always ask if she’s my sister.
Bisous
Ms Zanna
Ms Zanna Speaks 