(barelydreszed.tumblr.com)

She's Slipping Through My Hands...

I recently joined the lovely LookBook.Nu community. I must admit that I am still a bit timid about the entire decision, but overall I do not regret it! Having been a viciously faithful follower of the site, I love that its staff has created such a wonderful abyss of fashion ingenuity. If you've never heard of LookBook you are without a doubt missing out on a treasure- behold the wonders of worldwide style at your finger tips. Inspiring men and women show off their personal style for all of us fashion hungry bloggers to comment, like, fan, hype, and ♥ 

Feel free to do the same for me! Just click the HYPE below: 

Follow me on LookBook.nu/InfamousMinny

That being said... Here are some shots from a recent photoshoot! Enjoy = )

♥

Minny

The Material Girl: Imminent Offspring

At the age of only 14, Lourdes "Lola" Leon is one of the most beautiful and trendy teen on these streets. Her features may look a bit familiar, and if you are not aware, yes she looks like Madonna. Most likely because she is her blossoming daughter. Not only are her features stunning but she has an exquisite sense of style. She will undoubtedly take this fashion world by storm, and melt the hearts of all admirers. Watch out world because this young star is more than we are prepared to handle. Seeing her in armslock with her mother on the red carpets, it is evident that she's the Material Girl reincarnated. That is indeed the name of Lola's clothing line she spearheads with her Mother-Madonna. But more than just style and candid camera shots, Lola is a young girl like any other. Follow her blog postings on MaterialGirlCollection.com and see just how real this young fashionista is! 

Lola, Madonna, and their Material Girl- Kelly Osbourne

(MaterialGirlCollection.Com) 

Madonna talks about her Lola and their line- Material Girl

Source: www.popeater.com/2010/06/30/lourdes-ciccone-madonna-blog/

For the Long Haul...

It's been ridiculously long... and I sincerely apologize to the love that lies between the www and .com of these here blog pages. Crazy much has been on my mind and although my heart could no long stand the ache that comes from being parted from these key strokes, I raced back to you for a few rare seconds between the studying and procrastination of college life. Its brutal, to say "see you later" to your first love- to cross the firey sands of intelligence and conquest. My only hopes that all that comes from this paper, plaqued between glass and nails and highly awaited, will bring more fruit than the labor I've endured to achieve it. And so I propose a toast to everything that I have yet to share... trust me I anxiously anticipate a moment of alone time just for you and I. Until then... here's one of my alltime favorite songs by one of the most amazing muscians alive. He wrote this song about me ; )
♥
Minny

::Pumpkin's Pics::

Celluloid

A Call to Anguish- David Wilkerson

Daddy Dapper

Stumbled upon this photo of my pops when he was younger and I must say a fell in love. There's small space for words, but I think it unravels a peak into the debonair I admire in an elegant man. We can't avoid our roots- So I embrace mines with finesse. My mother always taught me people will respect you as much as you respect yourself- the way you present yourself will speak volumes before your lips utter a single word. So I approach the world with a muted bellow of ingenuity- understanding that style without charisma and integrity is perishable. I expect nothing less from a man. So gentlemen, here's to raising the standard. Understand that presentation is key and that the man makes the clothing. No black label in the world will make you worthwhile if your personality has no quality. 

Identify Identity.

"Our minds are the product of total immersion in daily experience saturated with fabrications to a degree unprecedented in human history"

                         - Thomas de Zengotita

The Lines of Vanity

Homeless

Erratically aware of the tenacious gravity slowly crushing the insides of my being

My lips part and give way to heavy solidified breathing

Density which abrasively hints at the discomposure taking place inside these

Membrane walls

like fog its thickened hue weaves patterns in the city frost

Starkly contrasting the burn of disintegrated flesh like coal

Sister to the arctic edifice of my ambiguous soul

Its cold- the woven scarf tightens around my neck

Its warmth sufficing only long enough to remind me that I am not yet dead

A loose noose of dissimulated protection hanging me by the tension of its perfection

One last attempt to release life from my eyes like manuscripts tears tell of hauntings of a headless soldier cries

Sleeping weeping hollows deceased-that is me or rather I am she in glamour dipped- for my mind owed me everything I ever had to give

Keeping locked into its crevices the ability to think

I trudge- a passive step closer to the rainbow on this green mile

Stretch of desolate corners capered vengeance of the days tiled

With linoleum of cheap teeth- glaring of the remains of whats not there to eat

It has been three days since I last smelled the sweet

Aroma of water

Add three to these dreams, multiplied by 24 consistant 60’s times itself

since the time I last tasted its merciful help

This cannot be granted- taken, shaken or vanquished

Unrenewable source of deaths prancing casualties

Leaves a chilling fear of gravity that’s already crushing the insides of my being

- Mayra Pereira ©2010

............................................

Driving to pick up my mom from work one day, we are sitting at a red light and as I look over there is a homeless woman on the side of the road. Approaching the light, she had been standing at the corner with her sign- but as the car rolled to a stop I saw her turn away from the street and sit down on a small rock, and just cry. Heavy heaving cries- deep sobs into her sleeves. I could not hear her, but as she turned her face to the sky in agony I could almost make out her lips crying out to God in dispair. My heart was broken and I was infuriated. Suddenly nothing made sense anymore. Here I sat in this black shiny 2009 BMW, all the works, but I had not a single dollar to give her. How could I show my face to this woman and tell her that I didnt have a dime to my name- but that God loved her? And then do what? Get back in my BMW and drive away? My blood boiled- how could a seeming blessing be such a curse in a time like this. I prayed- tears streaming- my heart shattered- angry I fought with God. WHY? Why does she have to go through this? HOW? How can I possibly sit here fussing about my situation in complete helplessness unable to provide any financial assitance to her and yet I have what most would look at as priviledge? Now it is a curse. I felt embarrassed. I don't know if any of you have ever in your life experienced the suffering of anothers heart- but that day God put her burden in mines. As I looked at her sobbing, it was as if I sat there on the rock next to her. I failed her that day- not because I didnt give her a dollar or 5 or 10, not because I didnt buy her a meal, but because I didn't get out of my car and share with her the most valuable thing I had- the truth of God's love and salvation. The light changed to green, and when we came back around 10 mins later- she was gone. But the impression of that moment, although she may never know, has marked me forever. My heart will always carry a small piece of hers, and I trust that God heard my prayer on her behalf, but I am not satisfied with a cowardice prayer. I need to do more. Homeless is a piece that came from that day, really trying to put mind in a place outside myself. I have not yet finished it, but this is where the verse has stayed as of now. My prayer is this- God use me. That is all- letting myself be in the disposition of God's servanthood and maybe one day God will grant me the opportunity to see her again.