What a way to start my Travel More Africa conquest. I have always dreamt of seeing more of our beautiful home but haven’t really set the time or money aside. Few things excite me more than travel lately…I’m not sure if it’s my age showing but I scream for a good vacay and a bit of DIY these days.
If you’ve been following me for even 2,5 seconds, you’ll know how much I love a good Coffice. What is a Coffice you ask? A coffee (Coff) shop that one can work from like an office (Ffice). I literally rely on coffices on days when I need to zone out and get things done. Or even just days when I have to work between meetings. I have created an arsenal of coffices around town so that I know where to stop and get online when I need to. I pick my favorites based on wifi speed, noise levels, food, coffee (I’m no cofficionado though) and my personal bias which I like to call ‘vibes’. My favorites, in no particular order (because suspense is life) are as follows:
The last day was a little warmer so I thought I’d bring some leg to the party. Haha. I wore this orange-red dress from Zara with this coat that I like to describe as cinnamon. I’m highkey into orange for summer. Highkey!!
Day two was fabulous! I think the twinkle in my eye has been restored. I love the fanstast of fashion. I felt like a little girl at the theme park. I know I said I wouldn’t review but I was really bowled over by Orapeleng Modutle’s show! Woweee. Hopin for an invitation to something amazing soon so that I can have an excuse to get into one of his creations.
It’s Mercedez Benz Fashion week, and there’s a chill in the air… can’t be a coincidence. So much cool in town! Last night I went to see Spero Villioti and AFI Prive in action and there was plenty to ohh and ahh about. I’m not sharing any reviews on the shows (there are so many well-equipped writers covering this area) but I did have a chance to shoot my OOTD so my posts this weekend will be just that.
What is there to be said that hasn’t already been said in praise of the great mam’ Winnie Madikizela Mandela. This is by far the hardest lesson to distill into a short write up. The lessons have been plenty and truly meaningful. One thing I can grasp as a singular theme is her ability to embrace the complexity of being a woman.
“There’s a quiet storm that is you.” One of my favourite lines from Sade’s (the group) The Sweetest Taboo. For me, that line perfectly describes the lead singer, Sade Adu. She’s a quiet storm, never announcing or brandishing her brilliance. Still, her strength can be felt by all who come into her path. Today my lesson for women’s month is by Folasade Adu: Letting your excellence do the talking.
In a word: Self-love. I consider the artist Frida Kahlo a beautiful example of self-acceptance, or at least self-acknowledgement. Many times when I am looking at one of her famous self-portraits I think about what I find to be a powerful theme – she did not edit herself. She painted her likeness exactly the way she saw it in the mirror, complete with unibrow and mustache. No beautify filter or minimization of what could be considered masculine features. She let it all shine on the canvas and I find that to be one of the most beautiful kinds of bravery. “Yes, I accept, I acknowledge and I love me.
I recently visited the Black Horse Brewery after months of stalking it via other people’s Instagram pages. Yay to going to the places you stalk. It’s a little over an hour’s drive out of Joburg and most of the route is quite scenic. That coupled with the badass playlist we had going, the ride felt like it went by in a blink.
The very first thing we did was order ribs and wings – duh, that’s the protocol. (Which I just made up) Then we each got a brew of our choice. I somehow wound up with a pink beer, go figure. The universe is on my side. The food and drink are cool if you’re a big fan of simple, rugged fare but that was not my highlight. Don’t get me wrong, the food and drink we cool, I was just secretly there for something else.
A fond memory springs to mind whenever I clad myself in all denim. It’s a memory of my mom getting ready to go to town on a Saturday morning. I used to wake up at 6 am almost every Saturday to watch cartoons and eat cereal (in peace) before my terrorist little brother woke up. I must have been about 8 years old and my brother would have been a little over a year old. (Said brother has since outgrown his terrorist phase and is now a really nice guy.) As part of my routine, I would go to my mom’s room and watch her routine. Every detail, from getting dressed to makeup and hair. She would entertain all my questions and attempts at taking part until the one sad question would arrive; “can I come with you to town?” which was always met with the inevitable “no, your brother will cry all over town.”