IT’S ALL PERSONAL
She was there. She knows her history. Y’all had to read about it.
She’s here. She’s always been here.
She’s now. She’s not going anywhere.
Back in the day, a high school overachiever with a secret stash in her locker and a secret "after-school special" in her phone book. Siouxie on her Walkman. Big time sensuality in her strut. Her backpack filled with dogeared Didion and mixtapes from dumb ex lovers with dope taste.
DJ on the College radio, between three and five am, she whet your appetite for her taste in new music, served with a side of her buttery voice. Campus disruptor in thrifted luxury and combat boots, fluent in Bauhaus, Basquiat and Biggie. Nouvelle Vague is always in and Viva Glam I is never out.
Day Dream Hustler. From self-published zine radical to self-made multi-hyphenate, while you were planning, she made that shit real. She’s breaking barriers in patent leather Docs and building empires in Air Force Ones.
That ain’t chaos, that’s curation - her ex’s ex-band T over slip dress or twist on a timeless trench with a tracksuit. Rules are, there ain’t no rules. Her way is the only way.
Overlooked and under-estimated. Don’t tell her to not take it personally. It’s ALL personal. She’s lived and learned. Forgive? Maybe. Forget? Never. She’s loved and lost, fought and struggled and came out on the other side…with names. Friends close, enemies closer. Cuz, baby, you never know who’s gonna be the next lover.
So yeah, bitch. It’s personal.
She’s not here for your gaze. But she’ll take it anyway.
REGALO Studios. Lives lived and living.
