Walking around this little city I've come to know like the back of my hand. It's almost seamless, you see. I've had trouble getting my fortune told because of it. My heart line is so faint, which seems quite fitting. God has a sense of humor. I don't know whether to wash my hands of Little Rock, adorn it with rings, or chop my fingers off. While I find the answer to this very personal algorithm, I have my daily rituals and to-do lists. I get lost in the details of the chaotic order of my day. Those incredible little details, that keep me sane and whole. I select my clothing with care. The texture that captures my interest, a handbag that makes a distinct sound as I delicately run my nails across its leather. How sometimes, I choose to wear my watch extra tight so it pulls my skin and leaves a red signature.
If you haven't noticed by now: this isn't a fashion blog. Style has never been about fashion for me. I've been in the industry long enough to know the difference. You can have every designer's bio memorized, be able to categorize on site, and have been raised in your grandmother's Chanel infused closet... but that doesn't make you stylish. To embody true style is ingrained in how you carry yourself sans conformity.
As I was selecting which outfit I wanted to be photographed in, I had a sense of calmness. It'll only be a short walk, it'll only be a few words, it'll only be me.
Hat: Hatworks Nashville
Shirt: T by Alexander Wang
Skirt: Wilson's Leather
Jacket: Vintage found treasure from Saver's
Handbag: O'Faolain Leather
Shoes: Jeffrey Campbell
Photography: Stephanie Parsley