Girl, let your hair down
Here's a glimpse into my new closet sitchiation. I checked three bags on the flight over, and shipped one box of mainly for shoes. The night before my movers came, two of my very patient and pragmatic friends came over to help me rationalize my SKUs:
"Who gon be wearing that in the desert?? Not you!"
"Do you really need more than one LBD?"
"Did you sneak another pair of flats in here?? No."
"Your 'maybe' pile is larger than all these suitcases combined. You tried it. Get your life."
"Purses are too bulky. You can bring that Louis OR three more sundresses. Your choice."
So yes, I am pleased with myself. And happy that I could leave all that bulky cold weather wear in a storage unit back in NYC. Thanks Kelly & Aimee. Given all the inventory I was able to bring with, I realize my subconscious may have been hoping for a longer stint. But then again, variety is the spice of life, and it doesn't hurt to have a few more options than absolutely necessary.
My hotel apartment started me off with ten wooden hangers. I politely requested more since my stay would be long. They asked how many more. I replied A LOT, with my hands out wide. The attendant later brought eight in hand. I asked if there were any more, and called the front desk explaining that I needed many more than that if possible. They said yes, whatever I need they have! The man brought another eight. Bless his heart. Hopped on the train to Carrefore for groceries and home goods. That's where I picked up this $2 Indian caftan to lounge in by the way. You know, because you don't waste no prime international suitcase real estate on ratty sleep shirts from that time you won your middle school spelling bee, ok? Anyway, the concierge was very upset seeing me walk in after purchasing 50 hangers for myself. Said they have plenty on site. -___- I couldn't take any more chances the way ol' dude was bringing them up in octuples. It's handled.
I can't deal living in disarray. And that's what moving is. Skressful. So now that I have unpacked, learned how to catch the metro, completed onboarding with every department at work, and downloaded my Careem and Deliveroo apps for ride sharing and food delivery, I can release the pent up energy I didn't know I had been carrying throughout my body.
I'm willing to bear it for a couple days, but I can't sleep in bantu knots for long. That pillow princess life ain't for me. Twisting while wet is the simplest way to curl locs, and luckily, this hot-as-balls climate dried that look out with the swiftness. I didn't bring any setting lotion to help extend the subsequent curl power, nor did I have the energy to look for some in my new neighborhood. But you know when it's time to reclaim your edges and free the fro.
Let me tell y'all that have never worn braids or an updo that gave you a temporary face lift: there is no feeling like taking it down. Especially if the outcome sometimes comes out looking better than the original. This is my 'me time'. Sacrificing my good work for a good sleep.
I don't know how much it costs to get done professionally, but I'm grateful to my pops who taught me how to do my own hair before leaving the nest. At age 12, I was his first Sisterlocs client. It took weeks of negotiations to get me to acquiesce. In case you're wondering, a $100 bribe was the final tipping point for me to finally sit down long enough in his chair to 'get it over with'. Back then, it was actually a dining chair perched in the middle of our living room. I don't think I'll ever forget torturing him for days with Grease, The Sandlot, Bebe's Kids, and The Sound of Music on repeat until he finished. Now he owns natural hair salon, Your Best Image, and I'm still out here, rocking these thangs almost 20 years later. I'd say it was a good investment.
My mother is the fancy one. I get my color blocking, accessorizing, and sit-down-shoe wearing from her side. I watched her pull items from her closet every Sunday night, as she carefully selected themes for the upcoming week at a time. Apparently, when she brought me home a bag of new clothes to start Pre-K, I looked through each one and boldly declared, "I not wearing dat." I'm amazed I don't have years of photos in the same one outfit after those ungrateful words escaped my baby lips. But she calmly packed it all up and got her money back. Said she wasn't gonna waste it on stuff she knew a defiant toddler would fight to put on. I've been dressing myself ever since.
Sometimes I start with a shoe I haven't worn in a while, a bold lipstick I really want to try, or simply throw a skirt into the mix because I've been rocking pants for too many days in a row. Whatever the lead piece is, I build around it until it feels fresh. I don't take forever deciding each day. I heart sleep. And snooze chronically. But I do spend more time holding things up that I have yet to try together than I spend on make-up, hair, and teeth combined. There is something peaceful about selecting a head to toe look for the day. It used to be called getting dressed. Now it's curating your style.
Regardless, I'm hooked. And for this night owl, it's one of the few parts of morning I look forward to.
Photography: Mohamed Zourob