I cannot with this baby shes gonna make me shoot any guy that comes close

Ashlei Roberts - Photography by Angie Danii
RANDMAS = Random AND Modern African Style
New UK-based Nigerian label RANDMAS launched their new label with a bang earlier this month. If their new lookbook of psychedelic prints is a taster of what we can expect from them in the future, then there is  a lot to be excited about.Read more
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Dedicated to the Cultural Preservation of the African Aesthetic


My family immigrated to Brooklyn in 1992, when I was six years and three-hundred-thirty-eight days old. No one consulted me on this decision and I was wary from the very start, an attitude that was quickly justified, as the move introduced into my life such disastrous elements as the English language and school—I didn’t have dealings with this institution in Odessa, on doctor’s orders (family was doctors), lest I, a delicate child, should get cooties from the filthy Soviet children. Strange, then, that they had no trouble sending me off to P.S. 225 in Brighton Beach, which was teeming with cooties from every corner of the globe.
It would be unfair to say that immigration brought no favorable changes. In the Old Country, music was delivered either by way of Grandma’s voice or crackly gramophone. Here I had a stereo. I also had free will. In front of Romano Video, a man sold cassette tapes, and on my way out from renting Nightmare on Elm Street yet again, I could buy the ones I wanted (or my father could buy them for me) and if what I wanted wasn’t there, I could put in an order and the man would have it for me within the week. My tastes were guided largely by happenstance. A passion for Tina Turner was born after she was included in my Happy Meal. My gymnastics teacher was responsible for the critical introduction of 2 Unlimited and Ace of Base. But that was later. A major discovery occurred very soon after our arrival. I was in Long Island playing with a hoard of other immigrant children when I heard a song that shook me to the core. Where did it come from? Was the radio on? In my memory, it literally just came “on the air,” as if the heavens, or that low Long Island ceiling, had opened up to release it. I froze. I didn’t know who sang the song or what the words meant. All I knew was that I had to procure a recording and listen to it over and over and over again and learn those strange words. Yesterday, all my troubles seemed so far away…
— Yelena Akhtiorskaya

all my wasps / look at their bodies / so much like / rain


Boho ⌖ Indie

dark/pale/glow here

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