Once every month, I despise being a woman. Despite becoming like clockwork, my period always manages to turn me into the most moody and frightful person no matter how hard I try to manage my emotions.
As we prepare to say goodbye to 2017 we should probably consider not taking exhausted trends and terrible habits into 2018 with us.
I don’t think I have ever considered ageing to be a difficult and unglamorous aspect of life.
Guyana Carnival… I cringed the first time I came across the viral posters floating around Instagram.
Over the last two years my interest in pageants has dwindled. I have found them to be terribly Eurocentric and disempowering to women in general.
In an industry like fashion that is filled with so much clutter and pompous noise, sometimes it takes death to single out those who have made impactful influence and strides.
It’s hard to believe that almost an entire year is about to end and it is that time again to turn our lives upside down to supposedly be merry for the most anticipated holiday of the year, Christmas.
Digital media can be both a blessing and a curse. A blessing because of its cost effectiveness, immediacy and adaptability and a curse because through its abundance and steadiness it can potentially exhaust its content.
As self-satisfying as the idea of going completely natural with your hair is, it is easier said than done.
Children are the latest fashion accessory for millennial parents. A bit of lurking on Instagram’s explore page is bound to turn up the pages of popular accounts like Landon Lee’s or Asahd Khaled’s (son of DJ Khaled), in which you will see them in the latest children’s wear.
As news outlets became embroiled during the course of last week with the revelations of American film producer and co-founder of Miramax Harvey Weinstein’s sexual assault and rape accusations, the hashtag #metoo surfaced on Facebook and Twitter with women around the world sharing their own individual stories of sexual assault and harassment.
During my extremely short-lived tenure as a model for Donna Ramsammy-James when I lived in Guyana, I was always hesitant of highlighting it as something that I did.
Sometimes revealing the raw reality of something we hold close to our hearts can be difficult.
I always find myself being unreasonably nervous during introductions. Not because I don’t like socializing, but rather because I fear judgement based on my likes, interests and passions.
It’s perplexing and difficult to fully understand why fashion has gripped the 90s trend of logos for such a long time.
I like to consider myself to be a true and dedicated Spice fan.
Whenever I am buying shoes, I try to remember the wise words from the Guyanese proverb: ‘When yah like play cheap yah does pay dare,’ that my Godmother always preached to me.
For as long as I can remember, I have suffered terribly from acne.
Just as prom pictures were about to dominate my Facebook timeline for the next two weeks or so, they were quickly dwarfed by the stories and photos of the recently averted Republic Bank robbery and the Camp Street jailhouse fire respectively.
A woman’s connection with her undergarments is a unique one, and this is especially so in the case of many Guyanese women.
Earlier this week, I woke up to images of a glowing pregnant barely covered Serena Williams gracing the cover of Vanity Fair on my Instagram feed.
The memory of the spoken word can last a long time. I can still remember words that were said to me from eight years ago by people I have lost total contact with.