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judy smith Feb 2017
Leading fashion stylists and casting directors have been directed by clients to avoid doing business with Trump Models, a company that promotes itself as “the brainstorm and vision of owner, Donald Trump”, several sources have told the Guardian.

Trump Models refused to comment, but according to its Twitter feed several models had made it on to the catwalk. News of such directives comes during New York fashion week, days after the president used Twitter to condemn the retailer Nordstrom for dropping his daughter Ivanka’s clothing brand, claiming poor sales.

According to one leading casting director who spoke to the Guardian on condition of anonymity, directives to avoid using models represented by Trump Modelsbegan last fall, before the presidential election. They then spread by “word of mouth”, the casting director said.

The effectiveness of any de facto boycott is hard to gauge. Trump Models, founded in 1999, is not considered a big player in the fashion business.

“It’s not a great agency, so it’s not such a big loss,” said the casting director, who was not authorised to speak on behalf of their client.

A French fashion stylist, who also requested anonymity, said she was reluctant to engage with a business that would put money in the pocket of the Trump family. When asked if they would use Trump models during fashion week, she replied simply: “Nooo!”

“People certainly look twice if a Trump model comes for a casting,” said another leading American stylist. “But a boycott wouldn’t necessarily be a big loss to the business.”

A third stylist, a prolific veteran in the industry, said he hoped there was a boycott on the Trump agency but added that “if there was a girl I wanted, I wouldn’t mind if she was represented by Attila the ***”.

On Thursday, the fashion website Refinery 29 reported that hairstylist Tim Aylward had vowed to stop working on jobs that involved “talent” from Trump Models.

Trump Models once represented first lady Melania Trump, and currently represents dozens of models from all over the world. It also runs a division for “legends”, including Paris Hilton and Carol Alt.

The agency, which claims to be at “the forefront of cultivating a wide range of innovative and vibrant talent which personify the trends of the fashion industry”, has faced claims of mismanagement.

Last year, Canadian model Rachel Blais told CNN some managers at the agency had encouraged her to skirt US visa laws. “As a model, one of the things you learn quite quickly is that … you shouldn’t ask too many questions,” Blais said. “If you want to work, you have to do as you’re told. Yet you’re kind of aware that it’s not legal.”

Last year, Canadian model Rachel Blais told CNN some managers at the agency had encouraged her to skirt US visa laws. “As a model, one of the things you learn quite quickly is that … you shouldn’t ask too many questions,” Blais said. “If you want to work, you have to do as you’re told. Yet you’re kind of aware that it’s not legal.”

Blais was also one of four women who described their experience with Trump Models to Mother Jones. The women said they were forced to live in squalor in a crowded apartment in the East Village of New York City.

The women said the apartment contained multiple bunks, for which models paid $1,600 each, and housed up to 11 people at a time. “We’re herded into these small spaces,” one former model said, saying the apartment “was like a sweatshop”.

The then vice presidential candidate Mike Pence told CNN he was “very confident that this business, like the other Trump businesses, has conformed to the laws of this country”.

In court papers filed in 2014, Trump model Alexia Palmer said she was promised full-time work and $75,000 a year. She sued after earning just $3,880 and some modest cash advances for 21 days of work over three years.

“That’s what slavery people do,” Palmer told ABC News in March 2016. “You work and don’t get no money.”

Trump attorney Alan Garten said allegations of being treated like a slave were “completely untrue” and said Palmer had simply not been in demand. The suit was dismissed. Laurence Rosen, a lawyer who represented Trump Models in the case, told the Guardian his firm “is not handling any other lawsuits or claims concerning model representation, nor am I aware that any such lawsuits or claims have been asserted” against Trump Models.

Shannon Coulter, of the Trump boycott movement #grabyourwallet, said Trump Models had not been added to its list of Trump-owned or affiliated businesses because it was not a consumer-facing business.

“What we’re seeing is that the Trump name is becoming truly toxic,” she said. “It seems that people can’t get away from the Trumps fast enough now. I think those casting directors and stylists are making the right call not doing business with them.”

Coulter rejected the suggestion that a boycott of Trump Models might end up hurting the working models it represents, rather than the owners of the business.

“When you chose not to do business with a company,” she said, “you chose to do business with other companies that do have employees, too, so I don’t put stock in that.”

Amid continued questions about Trump’s relationship with his business empire and how it fits with federal ethics regulations, Trump-owned fashion interests have suffered adverse publicity.

On Saturday, retailers Sears and Kmart removed 31 Trump Home items from their online product offerings to focus on more profitable items, a spokesman said. The collection includes furniture, lighting, bedding, mirrors and chandeliers.

Last week, retailer Nordstrom followed Macy’s and Neiman Marcus in dropping Ivanka Trump products. That prompted a furious response from Trump, whotweeted: “My daughter Ivanka has been treated so unfairly by @Nordstrom.”

Nordstrom justified its decision, reporting that online sales of Ivanka Trump products fell 26% in January year on year.

Within the fashion industry, there is speculation that while the performance of Ivanka Trump’s line was disappointing, it was not enough to merit being abruptly dropped.

At least part of the reasoning, they speculate, was pressure from other brands and labels carried by Nordstrom.

“We would not base a decision on that. Our decision was based on the performance of her brand which had been steadily declining over the year. We had discussions with Ivanka and her team and shared our decision with Ivanka personally in early January.”

However, Coulter said it was likely Nordstrom had faced pressure from other suppliers. “The Ivanka Trump sales were down but it’s possibly not the whole truth. There are studies that say boycotts work at the brand level, not the sales level, so probably both forces were at play.”

White House counselor Kellyanne Conway later urged the public to buy the Ivanka Trump brand – and faced widespread criticism that she had overstepped ethics regulations. The White House press secretary, Sean Spicer, said Conway had been “counseled”.

On Saturday, Trump said on Twitter that the media had “abused” his daughter.

In New York, protests against the Trump presidency have rippled through the fashion industry’s market week. Calvin Klein played David Bowie’s This is Not America and a Mexican immigrant designer for LRS Studio showed underwear that carried the message: “**** your wall”. Public School’s Dao-Yi Chow and Maxwell Osborne sent out red Trump-esque baseball hats spelling out: “Make America New York.”

Senior industry figures, including Vogue’s Anna Wintour and LVMH chief executive Bernard Arnault, have, however, held meetings with the president. Vogue plans to feature Melania Trump on its cover.

Designers including Dior and Ralph Lauren have dressed the first lady. Others, including Marc Jacobs, have said they will not.Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com | www.marieaustralia.com/cocktail-dresses
Indian Phoenix Oct 2012
Oh, my stoic... whatever happened to you?

At 6'4 you could stare down anyone in the room with your stern dark eyes. People might take you for melancholy until you told one joke with your deadpan humor. But you were a little morose, in your own way... is it because you're a Cancer? Or were you searching for something that only your mind could find for you? I never knew. Stoic and enigmatic are **** near the same thing, after all.

You, with your hundred dollar jeans worn after your yuppie yoga classes. You might not have worn Converse sneakers or thick-rimmed glasses (thank God)... but don't think I didn't see those expensive flannel shirts from Nordstrom's in your closet. Is there such thing as a hipster fashionista...fashionisto? I remember you approved of my Lucky brand jeans. They were a gift. Hand-me-downs. I didn't tell you that.

How elegant that you would grab Moroccan mint tea when coffee was no longer your thing. Sure, you'd down so much wine after dinner I'd worry you an alcoholic... but caffeine? Something about not liking dependence, you said. I savored watching you drink tea when we'd work side-by-side in some of the city's independent coffee houses. You wouldn't be caught dead in a Starbucks.

I do hope you make your amazing Turkish coffee, if only for your next love. Did I say "love?" No... maybe your next tryst. That's more your speed. I still can't taste cardamom without thinking of you.

And oh, your guitar... you'd strum the chords as if you were solving a riddle: quiet, to yourself. Leave the simple "Wonderwall" for neophytes because you could play Django Reinhardt. Unsurprising that a person like you would have a music performance degree from New York University. Every note you played was expensive. And you knew it.

It wasn't just the way you strummed Spanish flamenco while I made us quinoa stuffed squash in your small kitchen. You had to play the cool music before it was cool--nothing so trite as Vampire Weekend or Kings of Leon; only the sweet whispers of Priscilla Ahn for your sensitive ears. I'd desperately try recalling obscure artists from my college days and try to keep up. Album Leaf? Mirah? I got a half smile mentioning Bela Fleck.

Do you remember, how we'd smoke hookah on your soft leather couch? I'd read your book aloud on tantric Buddhism as you'd light the candles. Once the room filled of cinnamon, we'd inhale exotic rose-flavored tobacco and watch documentaries imploring us to free Tibet.

Even your ******* name was exotic; foreign. My mother didn't like it, you know... she worried a man like you would always be patriarchal.

It didn't matter that your days were spent wondering if your law degree was worth it; because you had other dreams. Dreams of foreign service and pro bono nonprofits.

But somewhere in the planning of those dreams, we fell out of touch.

You ended it. I knew you would.

In the worst of my thoughts, I assumed you ended it to find a woman who was everything I'm not, but who I desperately wanted to be. She'd be an international human rights lawyer. A yoga teacher. She'd take yearly trips to hike the Grand Canyon and go on meditation retreats in Bhutan.

2 years later, I've moved on. I won't need 2 glasses of wine to feel comfortable in your presence (as I once did). I've found someone else; we're happily married. He'll never have your enigma, but he lets me in his world. It's not a world of Ghirardelli hot chocolate on winter nights, obscure records and hole-in-the-wall Vietnamese restaurants. But he encompasses everything I needed that you couldn't give: warmth.

I hope you're well, my stoic sophisticate.
tangshunzi Jun 2014
Ti ** mai detto che io sono un pollone completo per una storia d'amore ?Probabilmente capito che fuori già



.ma io amo sentire come fuori di tutte le persone del mondo .due persone è capitato di trovare l'altro - e quando finisce in un matrimonio bello come questo.mi rivolgo in poltiglia .Catturato da Heather Pipino Fotografia questa storia d'amore ha un finale molto felice.Vedere ancora di più qui .
Condividi questa splendida galleria ColorsSeasonsFallSettingsHotelStylesTraditional Elegance

Da Heather Pipino Fotografia. "Quattro anni fa non avrei maiè èe credevoè ñessere qui in piedi con una ragazza che camminava in un negozio di caffè che indossa un cappello Dodgers .ditutte le cose . abbiamo aspettato quasi due mesi prima che ci incontrassimo a vicenda . Dopo che tutti i testi .e-mail e telefonate abbiamo tenuto il nostro respiro e ha preso un salto .e abbiamo imparato nella vita.che tutto ciò che serve è venti secondi di coraggio folle afare qualcosa di grande accadere. "

Quelle parole erano solo una porzione di dolce voti Sam 'a Lindsey .ma danno una buona sbirciatina per i bellissimi cuori e amore stimolante che Sam e condividere Lindsey .Sono entrambi persone così gentili e genuini e la loro vita e l'amore riflettere sul fatto che in ogni modo.E 'doesnè èimporta quanto tempo siè èe li noti .Sam e abiti da sposa corti Lindsey sono il tipo di persone che ti accolgono con un caloroso abbraccio e lascerà piena di gioia .Essi vi invitano nel loro mondo e ti fanno abiti da sposa on line sentire come seè èe stati amici per anni .E ' questo amore che essi hanno per l'altro e per le persone intorno a loro che hanno fatto il loro giorno di nozze così incredibile .In una bella giornata in California.presso la Estancia Resort a La Jolla .amici e parenti si sono riuniti per sostenere e amare questa coppia che aveva toccato ciascuna delle loro vite .E 'stata una giornata piena di lacrime di gioia .il romanticismo .l'amore e la bellezza .e Sam e Lindsey meritato ogni singolo istante.

Da Bride.How ci siamo incontrati : Le nostre mamme lavorano insieme in una scuola nella Bay Area .Una volta che la sua mamma ha imparato che vivevo a San Diego .ha pensato che sarebbe stata una buona idea per me di mostrare il suo figlio in giro come gli era stato appena assunto lì .Lei e mi aveva viaggiato a Parigi circa sette anni fa con mia mamma e un altro insegnante .Mi ricordo che lei mi dice allora che avevo bisogno di incontrare suo figlio ma eravamo entrambi risalenti altre persone al momento .Ero titubante a incontrarlo fino a quando ** fatto un po ' di Facebook stalking.voglio dire .la ricerca .Mi fu colpito in primo click.The prima richiesta di amicizia è stata inviata e tanti.tanti .( molti) messaggi e fino a tarda notte dopo.i messaggi si rivolse a testi e testi voltai per le telefonate .Questo è durato per un certo periodo come i sentimenti si erano formate veloce e siamo stati nervosi e ansiosi di incontrarsi other.Finally un incontro è stato fissato al Coffee Bean a Carlsbad .Eravamo lì per quattro ore e quasi chiudiamo il posto in fondo .Il giorno dopo.unè edata irstèè stata impostata e il resto è storia !

Il nostro matrimonio ha avuto luogo a La Jolla .in California presso l' Estancia Hotel.Abbiamo scelto questa posizione perché è rilassato eleganza .giardini mozzafiato .ed è vicino a dove viviamo .Perché ci siamo incontrati e viviamo qui a San Diego e volevamo festeggiare il nostro amore qui .La maggior parte dei nostri ospiti di nozze erano da fuori città .abbiamo voluto l' atmosfera di essere caldo.accogliente.e una volta tutti vorremmo amare .

I colori erano nero.bianco e verde e il tema era classica .semplice eleganza.Volevamo la sede per parlare di se stesso in modo non volevo fiori eccessivamente fatto .ma felci semplicemente dichiarati e fiori bianchi .Isari Floral Studio ha fatto un lavoro incredibile catturare la nostra visione .

Volevamo il matrimonio per avere tocchi di tutti noi in tutto.Abbiamo parcheggiato la nostra hot rod (1932 Ford Roadster ) nel modo di entrata dell'hotel.Mio padre aveva una splendida "Just Married " segno gessato per noi.così abbiamo potuto avere un scappare con stile !Il nostro cane (leggi : nostro figlio ) . Non poteva essere sulla proprietà .purtroppo .così abbiamo avuto una foto incorniciata di lui fatta con un cartello appeso al collo che diceva : " Sono contento che tu sia qui a festeggiare con i miei genitori prega di godere il cagnolinoborse da me . Woof .Lux " .Su quel tavolo .avevamo sacchetti di biscotti monogramma di Michele Coulon Dessertier .Per il nostro libro degli ospiti .abbiamo lavorato con un graphic designer per fare quello di un manifesto sorta di nostra sede .Ora abbiamo questa grande opera d'arte.con parole gentili di tutti appendere in casa nostra .Sulle pareti della Sala Grande .avevo il nostro invito fatto saltare in aria e sparsi sui muri nelle loro cornici .Tutti questi tocchi davvero reso il giorno così memorabile .

nostro incredibile team di venditori e la nostra famiglia e gli amici sono ciò che veramente ha reso questa giornata il giorno più speciale della nostra vita finora.Siamo così fortunati ad aver avuto un bel matrimonio tale .Sono entusiasta di essere sposata con Sam per il resto della nostra vita !Fotografia

: Heather Pepin Fotografia | dell'artista: Aqua Vivus Productions | Event Design : Sherry Glommen | Pianificazione : Swann Soirees | Floral Design : Isari Flower Studio | Floral Design : Isari Flower Studio | Cake : la zia della sposa | Inviti : Smitten Onpaper | Cerimonia Luogo : Estancia La Jolla | Banco Luogo : Estancia La abiti da sposa on line Jolla | Bridesmaids Dresses : Nordstrom | capelli: Jessica / Michelle - Koda Salon | Calligraphy : Brown Fox Calligrafia | Abbigliamento da Groomsmen : Nero risvolto | officiante : Cerimonie Per Bethel | pipistrelli pergroomsmen : Louisville Slugger | vestito nuziale : Tara Keely | sposa / damigella d'onore Abiti : Abbastanza Plum zucchero | Cookies : Michele Coulon Dessertier | Guest Book Graphic Designer : Designs J Gal | Musica live / DJ : Collin Elliot -Ancora Ascolto Productions | Trucco : FioreBeauty | Photobooth : Photobooth mobileHayley Paige e Jim Hjelm occasioni sono membri della nostra Look Book .Per ulteriori informazioni su come vengono scelti i membri .fare clic qui .Fiore Bellezza .Isari Fiore Studio + Design Event .Plum Piuttosto Zucchero.JLM Couture .Inc. e Mobile Photo Booth sono membri del nostro Little Black Book .Scopri come i membri sono scelti visitando la nostra pagina delle FAQ .Fiore di bellezza VIEW PORTFOLIO Isari Fiore Studio vedi portfolio Plum graziosa Zucchero vedi portfolio JLM Couture Wedding Gown Bouti ... vedi portfolio Mobile Photo Booth VIEW
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Elegante Wedding at Estancia La Jolla_abiti da sposa 2014
Tom Gunn Apr 2013
Boy
Searching eyes down, stepping on cracks
at the feet of the financial district,
silent boy-prophet dragged,

as with a cart rope, by the hand
under granite-clad shadows.
Hurry up you little ****.

And yesterday Mother's pressure cooker vaporized
someone else's boy, God, eight years old.
I can't imagine. Can you imagine?


Shoes too expensive for this sidewalk. Blonde
boy too camel-haired, grown out,
too distracted, too kinetic

dragged by mother, feet searching for purchase,
and there is no time. No. Stop sulking.
Stop whining. Not now.


Blame congress, or pray to the President. Declare
even the feeblest, dismembered
pronouncement of woe.

This can't happen. Not in America. Buses, working adults,
have places to go, places to be. We're late.
He is too expensive and

don't you know the economy is ****? And you know,
his problem is that his Father
never listened to me either.


One more decade-long game of kick-the-can. What the hell
are you kicking now? He's always kicking something,

always has something strange in his pants

pockets. So he eats If-you-were-a-real-man-you'd-be-more
-like-your-sisters
and why the hell
should she feel guilty?

After all, the Nordstrom's card is paid down and You'll never
get into college with that attitude anyway
and *******, keep up.


A nice young man is late getting back to his desk on the sixteenth
floor in a tower above where the wind
shivers the weakening steel.
Ren Crostini Nov 2015
I'm a nice person.
Until I have to deal with other people.
And then I have a hard time not screaming.
Because what the **** makes you better than me?

When did society start saying that people don't have to be kind to other people?
What the **** happened to the golden rule?
It's tarnished and dusty,
Thrown in the mud.
And I'm so ******* mad.

Because I want to love people.
I want to be nice.
I want to go out of my way to help someone.
But, people, you are **** near impossible to love
Because your always looking down on me, and it's not just cause I'm short.
Always looking down on your fellow humans.

Why?
Because they don't have a nice car or house?
Because I shop at Target and you shop at Nordstrom?
Because you're the customer and by wearing a hat and apron and name tag, I've labeled myself as a doormat?
Because I'm a woman?
WHY? WHAT GIVES YOU THAT RIGHT?

I just want to understand.
I am a very ******* nice person.
And I hate that I let you change me.
So.... What the **** makes you better than me?
The Trumpoet Feb 2017
How sad for you, Ivanka dear,
the world can be so mean.
You toil so hard both night and day
there at your sewing machine.

To bring the world such wondrous joy
of shoes and bags and fashion
but big, bad Nordstrom came along
and stomped upon your passion.

You seem kind and intelligent
but folks won't buy your stuff,
'cause you support your daddy
and of him, they've had enough.

Ivanka, we all understand
that you must love your dad.
But narcissistic greed and power
have driven him quite mad.

So please Ivanka, intervene.
Enable him no more.
Just let us know you disagree
and step back, we implore.

If you and Jared do what's right,
then you we will adore,
and you may find, your product line
will be back in the store!
You can also see this and my other Trump poems at: www.trumpoet.com
Link to video of this poem: https://youtu.be/vpsm482AI0o
Written February 12, 2017
David Bojay Jul 2015
Baby we're so intimate
And this love will fade, sadly
You'll know me, then you knew me
We'll blow trees and self reflect and see the truth under leaves
So intimate only when lit we'll die like shots with a full clip?
Nah I hope we strive and dive into the fountain of youth where the truth between me and you isn't so blue
And you thought I was Gold and I wish I never doubted your truth
Time flies and we died like the falling leaves during autumn
What's the problem? You said I went in harder without the ******
You said I made you happier than your trips to Nordstrom
Talking as I go I wish I had the nerve to tell you upfront
Least I'm honest now and I'll get **** for this
But I can't look back at the past because these thoughts wont last
The day we split I was suffering from boredom
Went *** and felt numb
You were crying for a couple months
I was barely living, my mother was questiong her last son
What's the reason? There's no reason in seasons when you believe in God
Believe me and please me
You never did, I guess it was just emotionally
Self improvement they wouldn't understand
On the other hand, I'm yours if you say you need to other man
Positive energy
Ah **** I see our lives in geometry
Can't take our way our inner chi
Could never do monogamy
Guess I'm just like my father, nah I'd rather be d.e.a.d
**** a reaction
This **** is blasting
And this will go way harder than my last **** blasphemy
Mitchell Aug 2014
Listless dove
Stretched for miles
Like the land of America from the
East to West coast
Americans screaming inside their bellies
Pushing for
One
More
Dollar before
The final
Push

Atop this plastic and glass with
Plastic keys,
Images of ruby red dots with yellow eyes
Pinned to thin tree branches
Come to mind.
Rather than thinking, I listen
To the droning spray of a man
Watering his already dead garden.
Hope that life will again
Spring forth.

An old woman with a crooked neck
And a crumpled piece of scratch paper face
Waddles down the hot grey sidewalk.
Her clothes are in rags where her destination is
Unknown to me and to her.
Sometimes it is best just to go
Letting the unconscious mind take reins
Shifting one's body into a wild horse
Where soon the eyes enflame in hot red,
The hooves split into four toes instead of two,
Its tail turns rigid like an icicle, like a spike,
And it is off - whatever it is this beast transformed into -
Leaving only dust behind where it once stood.

All the drugs have been done and some friends made it,
Others didn't.
Where there is shame there is also guilt experimenting with
Experience.
A full whirl apocalyptic nightmare pressing against
The panes of clear Nordstrom glass and typewriter keys.
Bleeding ink and screaming obscenities up at the sky
As if the harsh words would bring down morbid rain.
Type all day and eventually, you'll end up in tears.
Read all day and eventually, you'll end up in the insane asylum.
Do what you hate all day and you'll end up
Like more then half of the country, starving spiritually
Anxious about the lotto numbers and the next big game.
The final score is the death bed, cold and stale, with a flat screen
Color TV you didn't even ask for.
The foods bad and nobody will talk to you except the nurses.
You see the scythe hanging out of the closet door.
Mr. Death was never too good at hide-and-seek.
There's a button to press when your bladder starts to hurt, but
You can't find it, so you *** anyway, thinking,
"This is what every great hero who died before their time
Got to miss. Lucky *******."

A lime green letter from a friend from someplace far away
Tells me I was somebody else before what I am now
When things change they get better or they get worse or everything's
Just different...how vague that word is...things are just different
What weight has changed? What colors are different? What parts
Of the body hurt more than before? Can you love or trust or **** or
Cry or moan or fear or hurt or betray the same?

Are there are things in this world that take you by the tail and whirl
You around like a boomerang, channeling all thought into a Mexican
Firecracker shooting for a pink lemonade moon reflecting Aristotle's
Worst nightmares - our nightmares! - so the dead podium where all
Who read their thoughts and share their thoughts are there too, listening,
Wondering if this is the next Kerouac or do they have the right stuff
Or Whitman or Bukowski or Plath or Woolf or Jones or or or the next
Something because every generation needs its messiah.
Every generation needs somebody to lead the way but maybe this time
We are leading the way and don't need anyone to take the lead, for we'll
All take the lead! All lead the way! All innovate and press on for a world
Without war and clean water in every faucet and guns that shoot
Flowers instead of bullets and a world where the streets of Mexico are
No longer running red with blood but with the sound of music echoing
Off the walls as if the whole city were in a grand cave filled with light,
Light of a million grandmother's kissing their grandchild's cheeks before
Their final breath. My grandmother, smiling so every wrinkle on her face
Curls like a chirping blue jay or a purring kitten; smiling so her eyes
Begin to water and she chokes by a sob of joy and sadness and knowing
Release...inevitable release! All that is living will one day die and she
Sees that in the mirror and in my eyes and her son's eyes and every
Pair of eyes in stranger's that she passes in the supermarket or on the
Street or within her dog's eyes, her precious dogs, her rocks, her life,
Her love, the only companions that die with you when you do.

Pastels upon paper mixed with water colors
The sun rises presenting a new land with an old soul
Born again, rise again, see it all again
Spilled out on the ground like water
Laying there, soaking into the ground, becoming one with the ground
An order from the general - the general germ of authority
I turn my back and walk in the opposite direction
Hearing gunfire meant for me I smile and lean my head back

Taking the weight of all of me off of me.
Erika Soerensen Jan 2017
A rosy-cheeked woman has a Light Brite cradled in her lap.
I see a handsome young man with a missing arm.
On rolls a beautiful paraplegic.

The woman next to me has a real fur coat stuffed in her Nordstrom bag.
I loathe this woman immediately.
A skinny girl across from me has a McDonald's bag full of food.

Three young Asian girls sit together giggling
while the one in the middle takes a selfie -
then the others critique.

A lady standing in the front looks like a fat mouse.

Miss McDonald's is on her 2nd Happy Meal
and fur hag is writing a grocery list upon her knee.
Lots of rare flesh, I'm sure.

The beautiful paraplegic has the token plump lesbian girlfriend
complete with a trendy faux hawk.

I bought Daniel and myself vegan cupcakes for our 6 mos. today.
One is lavender with toasted coconut lime frosting.
I hope he likes it.

Oh, here's my stop.
Until tomorrow....
I found a raggedy old notepad in a box from the past - my writer's notes from the 120 bus when I lived in Seattle.  I thought I'd share the reality.  No edits.
judy smith Dec 2016
Timeless fashion is part of Debbie Hawkins seasonal home decor.

When the Etcetera collection arrives, her living and dining rooms become showrooms, a place where by appointment women can choose classic fashion, well made from high end fabrics, "things you turn to for years."

"We bridge the gap with versatile selections," said Hawkins, an Etcetera sales consultant. "Pieces that bring something special to a wardrobe."

The unique, sell-from-home business us part of the Carlisle Etcetera trademark, a New York based brand that offers women an opportunity to become entrepreneurs. Consultant/stylists are trained to guide fashion choices.

"I had raised my kids and wanted to do something interesting," Hawkins said, "Etcetera came out at the top of the list. I could work at my own pace and hours."

Four times a year Hawkins attends a fashion show, where she and 100 other consultants have a chance to meet designers, look at quality fabrics and learn about techniques used to make the Etcetera collections.

Ordering clothes online isn't the same.

"Pictures don't translate to what we have seen before the trunk show boxes arrive," said Hawkins. "We receive upward of 300 items. We talk with each customer and they get to see in person what is available."

Clients are either referred to Etcetera stylists by friends or through the www.etcetera.com website. They are directed to the consultant closest to them; some of Hawkins' customers drive to Wichita Falls from Oklahoma.

A few have a hard time committing to an Etcetera trunk show because "they feel a little intimidated."

"Once they see it's a very relaxed environment it's much easier," Hawkins explained.

Two appointments are made with each customer, one to check their existing wardrobe for what may work well with Etcetera selections and another to try on what they've picked. Hawkins adapted a bedroom as a dressing room.

"One of the biggest pluses is knowing our customers so well," said Melissa Prigmore, Hawkins' associate assistant. "They know they won't be wearing duplicates of what they've seen at Lord and Taylor."

According to Hawkins, Etcetera's high quality skirts, trousers, blouses, jackets, coats and accessories are priced in the "Neimans and Nordstrom range."

"These are the kind of clothes you don't bury in the back of the closet and never see after the first wear," Hawkins pointed out. "Comfortable style and fabric, they get brought out every season."

Clients can also turn to Hawkins and Prigmore for advice on style, color and fit.

"I'm not good at editing myself on fashion decisions," said Hawkins. "It's nice to have someone else tell you what they think."Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses-2016 | www.marieaustralia.com/red-carpet-celebrity-dresses
Kelly Jan 2016
ABC
I'm walking out of
the Nordstrom Rack store,
sky as dark as the
asphalt of the parking lot
under my sneakers. I'm
not wearing a jacket even though
the Weather App said it feels like
twelve degrees Fahrenheit outside.

But I'm not that cold--
my hands are still warm
from the laborious inventory work
I wound up excelling at.

I can't say I'm surprised, though.
I was born and raised
on hard work; knew it
before I knew my ABCs.

My thumbs are a deep pink,
angered from picking up
shoe after shoe after shoe
for nearly five hours. Deep
grooves and torn skin
accent the pink hue.

As I stare at my
worn-out fingers,
I can't help but wonder
if this is what I'll
end up doing with my life...

Am I meant to
follow the career path
laid down for me
by my family? Will I one day
inherit my father's tough,
callused hands; or his father's
overworked knees--
all from pushing my body
to its limits just to
barely make it by?

A, B, C, D--
will I eventually fulfill
A Blue Collar Destiny?
Regina Golan Feb 2018
He wants me at first sight.
His glorious, thick-lipped smile,
surrounded by deep and dazzling dimples,
a square, solid jaw and chiseled cheekbones,
shines in the light of his well-worn work truck.
A whirlwind courtship and I am spinning.
I’m a beautiful ballerina in pink toe shoes.
Yet, I’m a clumsy cog, a contrivance,
desperately longing to find my home.

He wants too much of me.
He is insatiable in his desire.
“Sing for me,” he chants.
“You could be a star! I can see it now.”
His dark brow highlights clever, hazel eyes.
His button nose hides his
heritage, but his thick accent
gives him away.

He reeks of macho ideals and an entrepreneurial spirit.
He asks my parents for my hand.e’s doggedly determined.
A stony shiver runs down my barely-bent spine.
I push the far-off fear away
and dig deeper
into the safety of the sofa.

Sweet sadness kisses the girl
with hidden harbored afflictions.
The fair haired, pale skinned girl
with narrow back and large back end.
I’ve a delicate face and bright green eyes
with feet and ears as large as a man’s.
My fiery wit and sultry smile
hide the black cloud within my brain.
I have it all. Unwrap me.
I’m a prize in Nordstrom wrappings,
but also a stunning disappointment
in Prada heels.

A circle of gold slips possessively
on my relegated ring finger
in a land of strangers.
Their dark eyes burrow into me,
yet I wear my smile
like a shield.
Foreign tongues chant in ceremony,
and I am told to drink
the thick, sweet rosy wine. A bitter
spirit that offends my tongue.
A sad smile sits on my decorated face
like the painted palms
lining the path to the white wedding canopy.
My stomach groans. A rabbi chants.
In my mind, I chew on
French manicured fingernails.

Our bed is a crocodile pit with no rest.
Penurious, predatory eyes
cast an eerie glow on the taupe walls.
Green monsters snap at my innocent
toes
until my posture curves toward them
in subservience.
I made my pristine, picture-perfect bed,
so I remain there, despite the accepted
agony.
Every day, a new reason to hate
myself.
Each tireless tirade
with flailing hands and pounding fists leave me
alone.

I stare at the books on the shelf
to keep my composure,
while his Pacman mouth
spews ugly lies and spittle.
A thick spine of leathery brown
tells of long lost lessons of the Torah.

A tuft of black hair
juts out of the venomous
v-neck of his t-shirt.
His calloused hand hits the
soft skin of my face, but I don’t cry.
Nor do I wince. I merely stare
blankly ahead in the dimly lit boudoir
where jade jailbirds roam free
on diamond-patterned carpet.
Where is that lavishly lucky girl?
Who is this broken wife
who’s stolen her life?
I hide, pitifully, behind my extra
bulk
wishing away his crocodile cruelty.

The numbness envelopes me in its
superficially loving arms.
I become the hateful creature
that he wants me to be
and he hates me for this, too.
I hide in the shadows of the room,
but I am still visible.

I become a buttercream butterfly
free of the tirade
in the abruptly transformed bedroom
feeling the faraway freedom
of the acquiescent air on my newborn wings.
The pinched nerve decompresses
and I begin to fly
high above the ravenous room,
the frail, foreign female,
the mixed up, tormented macho male
and the pain held hostage
by the stranger I’ve become.

— The End —