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Being born and raised in Las Vegas comes with its fair share of indulgences and a certain level of extravagance. Fahion, however, is not one of them. As with all places fabulous Designer labels rule the high society functions BUT Coco herself would not be able to disguise the facade of Vegas style where levels of chic are measured by how short your skirt is and how low your top is. In other words, Trash is Class. I am here as nothing more than a girl from Las Vegas who adores style. Not necessarily of the designer kind but of an individual's ability to piece together an outfit that turns heads instead of making them hard.

Tuesday, May 11, 2010

Gleaming against the Glitter...

Once upon a time I fell into the trap so typical of Vegas broads. I thought that the trashier you dressed the better you looked for a night out on the town. Now I feel nothing but remorse for some truly tragic instances that have unfortunately been fully documented by modern technology. However, if ever there was a town where strippers can become high society housewives then a few interrogations by the fashion police can surely be forgiven. One place in Las Vegas that does showcase classy yet sexy attire for the late night scene by way of the female gender is at XS nightclub at Encore, a Wynn property. I must say that although a few scraggly perpetrators slipped through the ropes, there was a bevy of ladies adorned with simply delectable attire, giving a ray of hope that subdues the backdrop of glitz and glitter





Tuesday, May 4, 2010

FIERCE TRIALS

Fierce. A word I dread for fear of not being able to live up to its standards. I have perfected my picture pose wherein a smile is plastered oh so stratigically across my face that is tilted at just the right angle that ensures a nod of approval the morning after. However, it seems to be a struggle to take an serious pose, well serious. I feel absolutely ridiculous trying to emulate "sexy." But then again I guess it is just as ridiculous to perfect a manufactured smile. All this inner tormoil that exposes itself in the form of uncontrolable laughter was brought about by my last visit to Paris. So often have I thrown a camera in willing strangers hands and let them assume the responsibility of capturing vanity in its purest form. However, only in Pari did I have a nice young fellow question the decision of smile versus serious. I remember clearly the shock and utter indecision that came across my face. I have a pose. ONE that never fails. When my heart is pumping the alcohol through my bloodstream I will be the first to admit that no amount of fashionista driven passion can refrain me from less than fashionable poses. Yet they are just that, poses orchestrated for the camera with the full intent on being an entertainingly favorable representation of myself. But Posh Spice I am not. So from here on out, in accordance with the intentions of this blog I will make every attempt to class myself up to the standards of the fashion world. But I'll be damned when the Vegas in me slips out.

Success / Fail