Showing posts with label High Fashion. Show all posts
Showing posts with label High Fashion. Show all posts

Monday, December 10, 2012

November Train to 42//HAPPY BIRTHDAY MUM.


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“Choo, Choo”, I heard the voice glimmer in the atmosphere, you see, I’m talking of this train, which is slightly wilting like my senses, I’ve always been a very fashionable lady, still is, I can work like a thunder for a dozen of Birkins, I am a very, rational lady, I only kill for the best, for the products that define my perfectionism. I am always judged as a big spender, but I always ignore the hate, they will pour down like the style running down the runway, you can never get enough of them, but they define your perfection, because they wish to be the person I define.
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I believe that, living is just as hard as a model casting for Vogue, if you inhibit the perfect natures, you can shine as bright as a red lipstick, biting down the lower part of your chin as flawless as Marilyn Monroe, like a glam star you can never stop being. Tucking down either your bob, your weave, your pony tails, anything you can ever be. Like a party you shine bright on the living, like charity, you are WANTED, now it just works with your personality, your belief, the drip drops of your rose petal charms, and the whole world getting a copy of Vogue with your face on it, been there done that.
wen
I am originally a ginger, I was and still am an innocent, though I like partying and laughing hard, I just find beauty in joy and fashion. They ask me, whether I’m a saint or a bad girl, of course I’m a Saint, in the state of not being perfect, but a bad girl, in the belief of perfection. Nobody is perfect enough, and models are mostly photo-shopped, whether you like it or beauty not.
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Like eyeliner, well I don’t like crying under it, I like shining under it, like glitter, unlike Haley. Anyways, that’s just a piece of my thought. I’m actually casting for fashion here, that is why I am in a Louis Vuitton train looking train, well not exactly. It’s just where I’ll be headed one day.
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Just a little girl living the dreams, I am just as real as red lipstick and rose petals. I travel down the wind of dreams and become as real as the writings attached in my body, the writing of fate and faith. I believe everything is granted by God and His art. I believe this ponytail will grow as big as the Marilyn Monroe bob.
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A mixture of gas flies up the wind, as I gazed down my little faux fur coat, I check down my burgundy, snake skin Celine Trapeze, I see my bible lingering, with several rare diamond jewelry I got from my ancestors, a bag of make up, several bottles of nail polish, a pair of Chanel sunglasses, a pen, a diary, and several cash tuck up onto a snake skin wallet and a perfectly covered iPhone5,and of course my ticket. I also brought a suitcase full of my designer clothes, my laptop, my iPad, my hats, everything I can possibly find.
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As the railway passes through the soft drizzling rain, I tuck in an Hermes scarf and possibly too much changing, I just perfected my runway down the field. You know, like this dance floor kind of few, everyone looked at me in such confusion. I was just, over reacting over everything, since I’m just a small town girl, and now I’m living the dream. It’s that kind of imagery, red lipstick down my facial features, I was just, overwhelmed.
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Though another part of me experience such desperation due to goodbye-s, I promised myself that, through these dreams, this will not be the last goodbye. I can date everyone I think of, I can be anyone I want, through the freedom of expression and art. Goodbye, which is the hardest part, would all be worth it after my dreams, I believe that, it will just be another imagery of sacrifice for success, leaving everyone behind.
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It’s not the fame I live for, it’s the art and glamour I live up to, it’s the beautiful glory God creates through these atoms of dreams like light bulbs recklessly bleaching their hearts to success, everything, is just a step ahead, a new revolution, until it is perfectly being sewn as a couture dress, a dress of dreams, a dream where art flies like dark particles poisoning our nature like a pair of spiked souls.
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As I finished everything, my casting preparations and such, I just realized one thing I forgot to observe, looking for love in the end, as I tucked my polished nails onto my handbag, and I just bit my lip and smiled, there’s this guy I left behind, we used to go on dates together, he’s just a country boy and now I’m living my dreams like a new Dolce&Gabbana print which will have it customs being launched down the runway in any second, like a bestselling fragrance, carved with chemicals enriching the sweet essence possessed by the physical curves, like being backstabbed by Perez Hilton like any other star.
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I end up in an envelope, I end up with dreams of love and fashion, I end up stopping a cab, dropping off these pair of nude pumps to another state of fashion. Another state of dreaming. Because the world goes on like my dreams, again these atoms fly away like pink hearts on a mellow aura. Forever, Wherever, I will live by art and fashion, where love never dies. That is how this finally begins and ends.
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XOXO

PhotoVogue Features:

THE PHOTOGRAPHIC SENSE
PAR.Reinhardt Kenneth
Model.Wenny Sukamto
Stylist/MUA/Hairstylist.Diana Putri
Backstage.Dawi 
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Mr.Backstage, Yes He carves EVERY Art piece on my Portfolio!


Anyways, Happy Birthday Mum, You're a super huge inspiration to me, thank you for giving birth to me, for inspiring me, for motivating me, every exhalation from your red lipstick only makes me stronger, thank you for everything, you are more talented than shining and glimmering diamonds, work under pressure, breathe compassion, love GOD and Art. x
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Lookey Lookey, Andudei from Doodle and Denim Jeans finally sketched me, this is based on an outfit post on my blog "Imperial Androgynie", not only he is a talented doodler, but he gives me the BEST solution, he is such a dear(also a lazy blogger and a pokemon master LOL). Thankyou Andu!x (oh and I look so sleep vampire-ish with a cool ARTPOP shirt, where's my stache?)
reinhardth kennethondoodleanddenimjeans

Saturday, November 10, 2012

ORIENTAL HEARTLINES

Through embroideries, a geisha lies within, a modern one. Within her, she sleeps and dreams of nothing more but a diffusive heart line, whereas baroque comes within nothing more or less than asian embroideries. her tears are rather darker than crimson, but rather invisible after lipstick. Vanity lies within, she needs her ancestry, but also the art of the victorian. A RACE THROUGH HEARTLINES.


A fusion of two different cultures, lying in the same world, both bearing love, hate, and beauty. An implementation of colors, reaching pitches between lips and hearts, yellow, red, faint teal, all racing in the sky, sweetly reaching the core pulled down by gravity.


Somehow, floral visions mark a vision of one and another, and the oriental love marks another race of human beings, like faith and fate, they lie between the back of our eyes and blood streams, running like butterflies down our tummies and segmented hands, as sweet as plum sugar and cotton candy, like embroidery and the stars under the blue and red flag. Like how i wish I saw it, but I don't, the races of wagons and phoenix, against visions of hydra, and sirens, they come together, visibly like a vision of a new fusion, a creature. Fashion, Ancestry, Love, Art, and Passion.


I believe our ancestry are meant to be, it holds a certain point of love onto it, a love for a community you are forced to be, having severely their own culture, but in the end, it is in our human nature to never feel satisfied enough. We hold a power towards something everyone who doesn't have that certain power some of us posses wants to posses, needs to. We are always exposed onto love, but we will never ever accept the love towards the culture severely, as much as loving something we will never have.


"Like salt, it is bonded through crystals and particles of water, an atom of each, combined and planted deep inside love, deep inside an embroidered, anorexic heart, dipping through red, yellow, and faint teal"


I believe that inside every soul, lies the romance, the romance of the heartline, whereas red meets yellow, where red is when someone belonging to the East, a culture of ancestry morals, carved onto the fear of country, against yellow, belonging to the West, a culture of liberation, a culture of freedom and boundless imagery carved like princesses. Like the Sun and the Moon they will never shine together, but both shines as beautiful as they are. The forbidden romance.


But then, wouldn't the drama rage up if the romance is inside our state of mind, running, dancing through our bloodstreams and DNAs, like atoms of pigments, pigments of love, pigments of the misunderstanding of one concept, growing onto a controversy of the word forbidden itself. Like a bird leaving it's nest,a rebellion, towards a fusion. A beautiful disaster, in the end.


Like embroidery, lace was then invented, veiling the embroidery of heartlines throughout the heart. Everything goes back together as one because they come from the same ancestors, through the creation of the loving God and a growth through mother nature. They all are one but somehow bonded onto several. Like particles of monochrome, painted with love in visions under the bright heartlines.


Like a wildflower blooming under the winter, it decays beautifully, the beauty of the heartlines decays onto someone's state of mind, so that it's living essence implements their whole live, both morals and religion being diffused onto one single, particle, as strong as love, a particle of her. Like vines of grapes, they grow to create this rich colored fruit, violet, which stands for seduction and the womb, a vision of girl power, The grape vine, the wild flower.


Like voices of bells under spring, eyes smile through the vision again, they simply reinvent through culture, with horses running through dragons, like golden beads of prosperity under the liberation of the stars beyond blue and red. Beyond the Eye of Love. Luck implements it's color right away, like another shade, a new embroidery, a new reinvention.


Howling through someone's state of believing, through someone's state of hope, in the end everything is just worth it. It is worth love itself, like dancing and tingling memories, of particles as a fusion. As West and East go together, as the world diffuse onto one continent, speaking of love, peace, and freedom, with qualities of morals. A beautiful feminism, a beautiful oriental wildflower dancing like the flag of the state. Everything is alright throughout it, like shades of innocence. The Oriental Heartlines running throughout us, like strands of love and a passionate imagery.


PhotoVogue Features-
Oriental Heartlines
Oriental Heartlines


w
THE PHOTOGRAPHIC SENSE
PAR.Reinhardt Kenneth
Model.Diana Putri
Wardrobe.Diana Couture
Hair Stylist/MUA.Diana Putri
Backstage .Dawi, Khasmi

"Beauty is found in all sort of ways, but beauty will never be satisfied, beauty is NEVER prefect, beauty is the difference carved through flaws, beauty is inside out heartlines. Red, Yellow, Faint Teal"
  


w

Wednesday, September 26, 2012

SUMMERTIME SADNESS//751.

Like the scent of summer, the radiation hits the skin roughly beautiful pain. It radiates the skin like blood running through my eyes. Fame is an illusion, but Summer is fairly surreal. It's a part of this unexplainable sadness I face. It's V-the Voluntary Radioactive Indie Soul my heart loathes and loves.


I am Haley Greens, I am like Summer. I am the Summertime Sadness my Lana Del Rey lips smoke through. I'm just fairly ugly, that's how I feel pretty. I am soulless and soulful, both things compliment each other like coffee and gin, like the insanity complimenting a genius mindset. To be pretty, you should just carve out so much ugliness until it becomes pretty. Nobody is pretty enough to be ugly, and no one is ugly enough to be uglier. Everyone is fairly the same, that is why we should carve out the facial mindset. Red is not always Red. Teal is either Blue or Green. Vanity comes in between these tainted pain.


Perfection is a lie, Beauty is a Nobody, It's the charm shining throughout like the light bulbs shining the whole room. Everybody is beautiful and ugly, everybody is in between the delusional walls between the opposite of each other, ugly or pretty.


That is what is beautiful about fashion, beauty, and art, it has no boundaries, it has no limits in this and that, everything is a teardrop falling from the branches of the boudoir. It's like, buying fake gucci is still fashionable, it's just a sin of morality and fashion, that is the ugly and the pretty. Like the loathing mist dancing in the dark, it crashes and hits, the vintage essence of fame. It dies and smokes Marilyn. In the crowd I'm just deaf and alive, when I hear the spring bells of death, in my red ombre sundress.

Collared Fur will hold my name. Like the puppy in the middle of the electrify, death again will strike. I am the campaign you get for free. I inspire too much you see and that is just a shame of how hip hop dies within inspiration. Everyone dies for the new campaign but buys the fake ones. Why don't we all just die and reinvent and wear velvet all over again. Life is like a braid, it sound simple but is harder than a maze in the inside of the rose. I am your maze game inside this Summertime Sadness, your teen idle, your red lipstick, and the ecstasy lingering like fame, blood, and the lining equator of love, lust, and the rusting voices off these factory decaying, beautiful.


In shades of brunette, I emerge out. I want to be a strawberry blonde so I put on a wig, but I also want the world to go away, as I command with my bottle or ice blonde. I want to be Britney Spears and Lana Del Rey, I want to be Marina Diamandis, and I want to be Princess Diana, I want to be Marilyn Monroe and Judy and Benette Ramsey, I want to lose it all, I want to die in infinity and beyond. I want to drink, I want to hate, as smoking pout is not healthy, wearing fur should be an illegal pleasure.


Knives are meant for cooking but some chose to utilize it towards death, that's the beauty of the immoral, they only come alive in insanity, that is what I find genius like McQueen, the beauty is savage, it is beastly, it is innocent, and in the end, it is only in the back of your minds, tingling like an idle strand of bottle blonde.


It's sad and beautiful, the prologue of everything, the prelude, and the finale, the omega, dying from alpha, that is what comes in between the thick lips of truth. Every time I fall down the rabbit hole after I follow the curious cat, I never become Alice, I become Malice, Haley is not imaginable, it dies between lies and eyeliner tears. Delusional walls of blood die like Ramsey's blonde. Why don't we all just go home and enjoy the warmth the cottage gives and read a bible, won't we?. 


Playing pretend like roses and vanity is just a stand forward and backward. Living is alive, Death is getting by, Freedom is an eternal lie, you see. Sadness is just a shadow of your will, you are as sad as summer. Pathetic like the roses dying in fall, this will die, the beginning of fall is coming soon. Seven Five One, like art, the factories will wilt with my soul.


Don't forget baby, Kiss Me Hard Before You Go. Summertime Sadness. I just wanted you to know. That Baby You're The Best. A song to my lipstick and my red fur coats I chose to left behind. I am like Dolce and Gabbana's gold sequins, I am just as paranoid as the dying pastels, like shades of violet the other season, and like the rebirth of leopard, the coats and the imagery of veils. I am Haley you see, no?


I sing the body electric, I am just a bad baby, I am just an image of my vuitton brown, I am not that wise, not a saint, I am just Haley. Don't you see the radioactivity running through the fibre of the weaves this wig I snatched to my scalp?. Can't you see and listen from these YSL stained lips, I am as bad as never and as good as today. I'm just gonna drown and drive from the back of your mind with a Mint Vespa. You see I don't smoke in, I exhale, inhale, and steal diamonds through these dollars.


Everyone will go denim and louboutin-speaking through these studded visions, like frozen yoghurt, health is a lie, pleasure is what comes within, I usually sip the sea salt my hair exhales, love hurts like antibiotics, like the dragon rage jabberworck fires in a million years. I will love you till the end of time, baby, sorry for this madness. Haley you can leave through these gaps of Vogue Italia Features.


Walk like Donatella, bleach my Louisiana dreams, I am a bad couture addict. I would kill for the last piece of sequin I can find hanging around fashion week. I am just an icon I never could be, I am ugly and pretty and stupid and young and just lost. I will love you to death with my eyeliner tears, I can't them, I am your leather studded kiss and the ruffles off your collared blouse. I am Haley Greens. Born and Raised the Artistic Womb. Louis Vuitton Brown-Pink Ombre. Hybrid Feminist.


Blue Velvet, that is how I will close down my tears, that is how I will begin and die beautifully, how I will reinvent myself out. Young, Wild, and Finally Free, and Breathless. The finale of my life, that is what summertime sadness is not. It is a state of mind I wish to be, like my hair, glossy brunette down my lips, full time injected with bee stings. Don't let me down today. I am a long thinker. Ride Ride
Ride. Behind the windows of the voices of the birds on the summer breeze. Idle and Pretty.


"I am too ugly for everything, and physically I am a boy on puberty, so my mum flattered these pictures,
everyone is beautiful in their own way, in the tears of fur, vanity faints with glamour."
-Haley V. Greens (Reinhardt Kenneth's Alter Ego)


PhotoVogue-Vogue Italia Feature


The Photographic Sense.
Photographed by: Reinhardt Kenneth and the 7 Egos.
Model:  Diana Muljono Putri(My Beautiful Mother).
MUA/Hair Stylist:Diana Muljono Putri
Wardrobe: Varity Beijing.

V.
HVGreens.