Silently, one by one, in the infinite meadows of heaven, Blossomed the lovely stars, the forget-me-nots of the angels" — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

As I, myself, you, my mother and my bank account well know, fashion has nabbed itself a pretty secure spot in my life-- the clothes, the expression, the beauty and all that good stuff consumes a fairly larger amount of my life than I'd like to admit. Anyways, I had been perusing lookbooks, editorials, campaigns and ravaging through magazines like it was my job, when an overwhelming feeling dawned upon me. Now, typically the greater conglomeration of "fashionistas" love the feeling they get when that perfect pair of shoes matches that perfect skirt, or the way those skinny jeans, that you just negotiated your first born for, make your legs look, or even just the feeling of knowing, 'damn I look good'(i'll admit, I've thought it once..or twice...). For me though, that was not exactly the feeling that arose. The fashion inspired me to write; the beauty of words paralleled the beauty of the clothing. I had been getting so caught up in the fashion that my love for writing had become diluted. The clothes spoke of expression, freedom, choice, and beauty; for me, they invoked a feeling which reaffirmed the power of a voice. From there, I was re-awkened to the grace and aesthetic that a beautiful thought, poem or story can inflict upon the person willing to listen. And with that, the rest is history. From here on out, I have decided to offer my insight on the way the clothes and pictures I share with you all make me feel. For me, words have once again become, as Longfellow once said, "the forget-me-nots of the angles"