Cold Shoulders

Seeing as the winter solstice just passed and it is therefore officially winter, if you haven't yet, now would be a good time to whip out your winter coat. Unless you a) are hairy enough to be warm outside without the aid of clothing b) are a dog c) live on the West Coast or in Oceania d) all of the above. 

Some garments are timeless. If you choose the right piece, you can wear it over and over again. And over once more. We all know that trends change seasonally, and it can be tough to stay on-trend (although it doesn't really matter as long as you're lookin' and feelin' fine). As if things weren't complicated enough, I have some devastating news for you. Now it not only matters if you've got a bangin' jacket, it matters how you wear it. 

What?!

Fashion is becoming more of a game-slash-theatrical-performance than just a means of clothing oneself. A coat has two sleeves, has it not? You have two arms (presumably), have you not? It makes sense to put the arms into their respective sleeves, does it not? That is what one would think (is it not?). But the times they are a-changin', and society tells us that we must keep up with these times in order to stay "hip," as the kool kids say. It is no longer sufficient to have the "right" clothes. You've gotta walk the walk and wear the wear, so to speak. (Clearly, speaking is not something that is coming very easily to me right now.) 

[Vertical photos via Harper's Bazaar; horizontal photos via StreetFSN.]

Hanneli Mustaparta in London earlier this year, showing us how it is done. 

Some cool chick warming herself in an avant-garde fashion (pun pun pun fun fun fun).

This girl is a complete boss (and such a pretty one, too!). That natural glow, infectious smile, and unruly piece of hair are the perfect accessories to her shoulder-wearing-ness.

A few things I'm unclear about: 1) how is she standing in grass with high heels on? 2) how does she take pictures when the mobility of her arms is greatly restricted by the placement of her jacket?

Now those are some hardcore shoulders worthy of being accentuated.

She looks like she's in a hurry; putting her arms through the sleeves just did not fit into her schedule (and that would be one more pun right there).

This lady simply has no arms.

How embarrassing would it be if the left side of her coat just slipped off her shoulder right then and there?

This already awesome outfit is completed by the fact her arms are entirely invisible.

This trend of sorts could either open up new doors for you or be much too overwhelming. Either way I suggest you try it. (Hint: it's best to do it indoors; you can't really close your coat with your arms inside of it.)

In other news, happy Christmas Eve Day! A Chipotle just opened in my neighborhood!

Here's some slow jamz to celebrate the approaching holiday:

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Superior Smizers: Caroline Brasch Nielsen

Caroline Brasch Nielsen is a Danish sweetheart. She was born in Copenhagen on June 21st, 1993, making her currently at the ripe age of 19. I know. I just spent the last half an hour at least watching model interviews and it turns out that Jac is only 18! Can you believe that?? And Aymeline Valade is only 21! I digress. Caroline was picked up to be a model by a scouter from Elite while having lunch with her friends in 2010. In March of that year, she debuted at Dries Van Noten in Paris. In her first season in the shows, she opened for Valentino and walked in Balenciaga, Givenchy, Yves Saint Laurent, and Chanel. That is big. I don't know of any model who became that successful in her first few days on the job. I still can't figure out how she did it. 

Since then, Caroline has been featured in editorials, on magazine covers, and has opened and closed some of the biggest shows in fashion. In 2011, just a year after beginning her career as a model, she became the face of both Marc Jacobs and Valentino. She has been working consistently with Valentino on their campaigns since then. 

In addition to being a really cool chick in general, she has incredible style. She is frequently photographed by street style photographers for her quirky take on classic shapes and garments (see: leopard print fanny pack). If you thought Hanne Gaby had awesome clothes...you were right. But Caroline has got a pretty bangin' wardrobe as well. You gotta check her out. 

[Photos via harpersbazaar.com, hanneli.com, intothegloss.com, and tumblr.com.]

The subtle change in direction of the stripes on her breast pocket combined with the Alexander Wang-esque (or maybe just straight up Alexander Wang) skirt and the leopard snap-purses-cum-fanny-packs. Not one, but two. In varying sizes. It just kills me. 

Caroline looking cherry lipped and classy hatted for Into the Gloss. 

Are those her hands? Are they someone else's? The world may never know. 

What an angel. 

 

You remember this photo from yesterday, don't you? The jacket is still really awesome. 

I could call it a derp face, but she looks more like she's barking. 

"Rrrrruff!" 

Damn, look at those smizing eyes. They are penetrating your soul, I can just tell. 

You should also check out this video of her from FashionTV. I watched nearly all of my favorite models' interviews, and it was quite an incredible learning experience. Anyone who happened to be on my blog's Facebook page about an hour ago would have seen first hand how I excited I got about the videos. I think I posted about five in a row. 

Have a happy weekend, guys! Is it just me, or has it been Saturday all week?

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Dans Les Rues

I respect street style. You all know that. I follow it loosely on the Internet and I am surrounded by it constantly, yet Mr. Newton's Fashion Month photos for Harper's Bazaar somehow went unnoticed by me until the other night. It's a time thing, I suppose. Since my posts have been both text- and photo-heavy as of late, I figured tonight I'd give us all a break and just show you a selection of my favorite Fashion Week street style photos. 

[Photos via harpersbazaar.com.]

I'm a huge fan of turtlenecks for fall, so add a tweed dress and I am so freaking down.

Ulyana Sergeenko is one of the only people I can think of who actually just looks amazing every time she steps out of the house. 

My girl, Hanne Gaby Odiele, smiling fo' rill. Probably because she's just so cool that it makes her all tingly inside. 

Caroline Brasch Nielsen, another one of my main bitches (I plan to do a Superior Smizers post on her at some point). I'm not sure which show she came from in this photo, but that eye makeup is amazing, and so is her jacket. 

So quirky. So New York. 

Kel Markey is suddenly on my radar of awesome-as-hayl chicks. I know she's from the United States, but something about this look reminds me of German schoolgirls and the Broadway show "Spring Awakening." 

That skirt is really quite scrumpdiddlyumptious. 

This model came right from the Ann Demeulemeester Spring 2013 runway show. I can tell from that hair. A funky hair part can spruce up the most classiq Parisian-cool uniform (striped shirt, black jeans, Chanel bag). 

Kel Markey really is quite a cutie. 

I hope this has inspired you to keep faith in the uplifting qualities of fashion despite the period of complete apocalyptic turmoil the Tri-state area is going through right now. I know it seems frivolous when some people are struggling to get clean water in one of the most metropolitan and commercial cities in the world, but fashion is a distraction of sorts. 

Help out your fellow cityfolk/countrymen/world citizens and donate a lil' bit of money to the Red Cross to aid the people whose lives were turned completely upside down by the hurricane. 

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The Lensman's Struggle

[Photo by me.]

I used to have the utmost respect for street style photography. When I discovered its existence just days before I began my blog, I kept the nine pictures I'd collected off the internet in a folder on my computer and looked at them every night before I went to sleep for inspiration. I hoped that the skill with which these women had crafted their outfits would rub off on me and I would magically be able to recreate what they had worn in terms of my own wardrobe. It has taken me over a year to realize that that isn't really the point. What someone else chooses to dress their body in is not necessarily what I should dress my body in—if this were the case, the term personal style would carry no weight at all. As sad as it is, the latter statement is slowly gaining truth. And what is fueling this decline but street style photography itself?

Gasp in disbelief, let your jaw drop in shock, react however you will, but the camera is killing individuality. I hadn't fully been aware of it until Fashion Week this September, and it seems the same realization just dawned on everyone else, including the New York Times and the Man Repeller. One would think that due to the influx of inspiration coming at as from every angle, personal style would be flourishing. It's quite the contrary: we have been overloaded with pictures of every blogger wearing the same shoes and the “it” jacket that we just need to have them. But who is to blame—those behind the lens or those in front of it?

Street style photography developed a solid reputation decades ago beginning with Bill Cunningham. I consider him to be the founder of the craft. Aside from Bill, there weren't many other cameramen and camerawomen competing for a picture of Anna dello Russo as she hailed down a taxicab. Scott Schuman, the Sartorialist, started his blog in 2005 and reinstated street photography as a reputable career. He has maintained the integrity of the craft, but he is one of the few. During New York Fashion Week, amateurs with DSLRs flock Lincoln Center hoping for a glimpse and a few shots of their favorite fashion icons, but most often get the wannabes in expensive clothing attempting to stand out in the crowd. I am not in any position to say who is not staying true to their personal aesthetic, but it's someone, because everyone looks the same. The young woman teetering across the Plaza in her Jeffrey Campbell Litas in a peplum dress from Zara holding an envelope clutch under her arm while checking Twitter on her iPhone 4S, despite the time she spent painstakingly making herself camera-ready and fashion blog-worthy, will not be photographed by the likes of Garance Doré. She will be snapped by people like me, those trying to feel out the scene and look like we know what we're doing.

For my first two seasons at Fashion Week, I was that overzealous girl taking a picture of anyone who was being photographed by everyone else with a camera. I remember distinctly taking a picture of someone walking across Lincoln Center and then hearing someone shout, “Be original!” turned around, and saw a man who had presumably taken the same picture. I was offended and annoyed that he had insulted my originality. Why couldn't I have the same photo as him if I liked what that woman was wearing? At the time, I rejected his opinion. But a year later, I realize now that though his method of communicating it was wrong, his idea was right. When everyone has the same picture of the same person, we post it on our respective blogs and websites and subsequently saturate the Internet with a harmful subliminal message. We are telling those who see this person repeatedly on their computer screen that this is fashion; this is what was deemed worthy by Mr. Newton and Tommy Ton. Anything else is subpar. The issue with this is that it isn't true. Fashion is subjective, and saying otherwise is highly hypocritical. What is trendy one season maybe be considered an eye sore a few years later. Take the emerging trend of wearing colorful running shoes with tailored clothing: a mere few months ago, if a woman wore her Nikes out on the street, she wasn't considered fashionable, she was seen as a bum that couldn't handle wearing three-inch heels to buy groceries. But as soon as Leandra Medine sports (no pun intended) sneakers with one of her sartorial creations, everyone realizes that maybe they aren't as dorky as they thought. Soon thereafter, everyone miraculously owns a pair of offensively bright trainers.

Street style photography has become somewhat of a meter that bloggers and show-goers measure their outfits against, and consequently their self-confidence is either compromised or boosted. Being photographed by an established photojournalist produces a feeling of self-worth and seemingly commands respect, from the point of view of the subject. When my picture was taken by Bill Cunningham in February during Fashion Week, I was elated; I gushed about it to everyone I knew hoping to garner squeals of excitement and jealousy, which I did. As Leandra put it, “When I do find myself wearing snap-appropriate garb though, there is an undeniable ego-stroking-rush about standing amid a bike lane by Pier 59, clutching my purse and coyly smiling at an army of click-click-clicks, calling my name and asking me to look over.” Obviously, I wasn't bombarded by a sea of enthusiastic photographers, but the feeling is the same. As ecstatic as I was to share the news with the world that the Bill Cunningham had photographed little ol' me, I had a nagging feeling in my gut telling me that it was all a sham. Maybe it was the masochistic part of my brain trying to strip the pleasure out of an event that was really too good to be true. But maybe it wasn't true after at all. It did happen, of course, but did Bill photograph me, or my clothes? After hours of contemplation, I defeatedly concluded that he was after what I was wearing, but those garments were not representative of my style. The success was illegitimate in my eyes after this point of realization. Let's be real: I never would have worn graphic printed cropped pants with an ostrich feather coat and glittery platform shoes on a regular day. I knew I was going to be in Lincoln Center during a time of day when the tents would be thriving with life, and I dressed accordingly. There isn't anything wrong with dressing up for an occasion, but I have a lot of problems with wearing certain clothes to receive praise from others. Like Leandra, I admit that sometimes, or even often, depending on the time of year, I “put something on and either veto or acknowledge it’s power to instigate a photo-snap.” It's terrible and I know it, but the rush of joy derived from others' appreciation and acceptance is hardly worth compromising, according to anyone striving for attention in the fashion world.

Social media platforms such as Tumblr, Instagram, Pinterest, and even fashion blogs are responsible for this shift in authenticity within the street style sphere. Bloggers are often paid to wear certain brand's clothing as an advertising ploy—they are prepared to rattle off a list of who they're wearing at any given moment. It's difficult to tell who is wearing their own clothes and when people are being planted in certain places to drive business. In a New York Times article written by Ruth La Perla last week on this topic, the founder of Digital Brand Architects was quoted saying, “We use stylists, we do color correction and Photoshopping, we scout locations every day. It often takes hours just to find the perfect street corner.” That isn't street style photography. That is a magazine shoot. As tough as it is to differentiate between genuine and fake photo subjects, it may be just as hard to decide which photographers are staying true to their profession. Scott Schuman is one of the cameramen who is devoted to his career and does not see street style as a popularity contest; not-so-incidentally, he is one of the most successful of his kind. In an interview with the website Fashionista, Schuman said, “There is that element–the [person who] totally wants to get shot, and dressed crazy...The people who shoot that and the people who dress like that, kind of deserve each other. It’s the people who want to be famous, shot by people who want to make their blog famous.” He hit the proverbial nail on the head.

I try to collect and post content on this blog that embodies my personal taste and ideas, but sometimes it's harder than it looks. I advocate for an "I dress for myself and no one else" doctrine on personal style, but when everyone else is wearing expensive, well-known brands, high heels, and lots of make-up to a fashion show, I can't help but feel naïve, underdressed, and out of place in my homemade pants, hand-me-down riding boots, my school backpack, and a bare face. I almost feel like apologizing, as though I should be sorry for not being as put-together as everyone else. But I know that if I were to walk into a room wearing something that I didn't wholly believe was crafted in my own brain for the purposes of self-expression and practicality, I would feel exponentially worse. Scott Schuman understands this concept as well: “When I shoot her [the girl on the cover of his book] it’s not at all about the brands, or about how much it costs. It’s the way she puts it together. It’s the persona that she’s building.” Those with a true love of fashion, not fame, and an eye for style, can see when someone is a diamond in the rough and when they blend into the background. 

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As Told By Ginger: A NYFW Recap

Hello, friends!

Fashion Week is nearly done, but it's been a crayzee with a capital Z five days thus far. I have had approximately zero time to document anything at all, so I decided to record a video of myself telling you all the things I wish I had written. Don't worry, I'll have photos and words up soon enough. But for now, let this really long video of me suffice. Even though it's over thirteen minutes, think of it as five blogposts smushed into one. And it would take you more time to read five blogposts than it will to watch this video. Support your local farmer's market bloggers(?)!



Just a few post-video notes: no, I did not cut my hair, it's just pinned back; the dress I am wearing is vintage Elie Tahari (I wore it here); and links to all (or at least most) of the posts I mentioned can be found below.

Minnie Mouse sends her regards.
Hey, it's Caroline!
There goes Octavia!
Remember good ol' Katya Leonovich?

So...what'd ya think? Should I do more videos? I had a lot of fun. I'd do it again. Let. Me. Know. PLEASE. Right down there, in the comments section, or on the YouTube comments section, or in my email inbox, or on the Facebook wall, or on Twittah, or somethin', man. I gotta know.

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Let the Games Begin

Twice a year, every year, fashion junkies to magazine editors and everyone in between emerge from their respective corners of society and congregate in the name of fashion. The occasion means something different for everyone. For some, it is a way to get seen. For others, it is a way to get heard. No matter who it is, though, these people share a mutual appreciation for an art form as timeless and controversial as history itself. Fashion Week is a "shining beacon of hope," in the words of Nigel from The Devil Wears Prada, for those who can only see their dreams come to fruition with their eyes closed.

Three years ago, Vogue and the Council of Fashion Designers of America (CFDA) created the ultimate global event to alert the world of fashion's boundless influence. Fashion's Night Out is one of the only successful methods I have seen of blurring the line between the fashion world and the real world. Despite the fact that I feel that the night's festivities have become more exclusive and inaccessible for the average person to enjoy to its fullest capacity, it's easy to get lucky--or know exactly where to go--and have an unforgettable experience. Last year, I met some of my and the world's favorite bloggers, designers, and icons. At the time, I had no idea that the Man Repeller would know who I am after a few months, or that I would meet up with Emily Weiss for tea one day after school. Perhaps in the future I will get to know Jason Wu. But for now, I am on the path to forging relationships (I dream big, guys, you know that. Go big or go home. Isn't that the NASCAR tagline or something? Or just the motto of the southern United States?) with people I see daily on my computer screen and covering the pages of magazines. As a friend put it the other day, "It's not fair. I only get to see these people on Hulu and you get to meet them." If we're talking fairness, I don't know if I can agree with him on that. But I try to remember everyday what this blog and Fashion Week have done for me. The shows I see in the tents (and online) are about the seamless amalgamation of artistry, commerce, cult-like obsession, subjective beauty, and evolution. At least that's how I see it. For me, Fashion Week reminds me that this is all real.

When I saw Anna Dello Russo standing a few feet in front of me on 5th Avenue on Thursday night, I freaked out. I have pictures of her saved on my laptop. I've watched her every sartorial move (take that lightly, I'm not a stalker, just an avid street style follower) since I first saw her on Harper's Bazaar's website god-knows-when. She is a modern fashion icon among the ranks of Daphne Guinness and their slightly elderly fellow fashion devotee Iris Apfel. When she turned around and I saw her face and heard her speaking rapidly in Italian, I couldn't wrap my head around what was happening. Incidentally, I was on the phone and my camera was in my backpack, so I just started shout-whispering profanities at my friend on the other line and my mom who was standing next to me. I thrust the phone into her hand, and, by my mother's urging nonetheless, bolted (safely, always wait for the walk light, kiddies) across the street to stalk her like there was no tomorrow. Consider her thoroughly paparazzi'd. It was crazy how she seemed totally unfazed by me getting up so close with my flashbulb going off all over the place. She's used to it.

That was my Fashion's Night Out. Photographic documentation can be found below.

[Photos by me.]

La mère sippin' free champagne and livin' it up. Pinkies out! 

I had to take a picture of this girl's shirt. It was too good to pass up. Whoever created it is a genius. 

Miss Dello Russo herself, rocking what I originally assumed was Versace, but I am unsure of what she's actually wearing. Beauty, that's what. 

[EDIT: it is Versace.]

That is one hefty cut-out, wouldn't you say?

And she's still here! She was probably telling all of her Italian friends what a creep I am. That's why that guy was laughing in the first picture of her. 

Fashion Week and the beginning of sophomore year are a horrid mix, in case you ever thought the combination could work harmoniously. I won't give you any of the details of my troubles because they'll just making me sound terribly ungrateful and snooty. That's not what the vibe is about.

In the past two days alone, I've had awesome interactions with some of my favorite bloggers from all ova da place who knew who I am, like Stacey Belko of Devorelebeaumonstre, Nadia Sarwar of FrouFrouu, and Claire Geist of De Lune. I attended my first show of the season on Friday night, Erin Barr. It was an awesome presentation that I will be sharing with you when time permits. I won't be as consistent with my Fashion Week updates as last season because it is the first week of school, but it will be up eventually. As stressful as everything is, I've just got to remember, as my friend Elly has taught me, "I-i-i-i-i--inner peace."

If you're in New York, all eyes/lenses are on us.

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Hufflepuff x Grotto NYFW Launch Party

With only two days left until New York Fashion Week officially begins (as well as Fashion Month as a whole), the entire city is alight with fashion talk, kick-off parties, and lots of models. ...If you can 'alight' something with skinny people. The first of many events I'm going to be attending in the next week or so--that wasn't intended to sound so pretentious, I swear--was last night, the Grotto NYFW Launch Party. I'm still not quite sure why I was invited, but I was über pumped when I was, of course. Firstly because it was a fashion week party, and secondly because Anya from Project Runway was debuting her Spring 2013 collection there. Hell yeah. 

I got myself all dolled up for the occasion...only to stand in line in the rain for about forty-five minutes. I got inside eventually--after seeing and briefly conversing with several Project Runway veterans, one of whom invited me to their runway show next week--and stayed for about twenty minutes speaking to a lovely couple from New Zealand. By the time I got inside, Anya's show was over. Mondo bummer. (That was a Project Runway pun right there!) It was at the Norwood Club in Chelsea, which is really just a freaking fancy townhouse with bars on every floor. It was very much intended for adults. And then there was me. 

I took some pictures of what I wore once I got home, painfully slipping back into my heels for the photos. Only for you guys. Literally. I would never have done that otherwise. Two syllables: blisters. 

[Photos by yours truly.]

Dress: vintage Jones New York via my mom's closet (classiq mama)

Heels: thrifted 

Bracelet: a store in Old Town

Watch: gift shop in Giverny 

Ring: Venice Beach 

I'm wearing the Hufflepuff house colors, black and gold, on purpose. I'm showing my house pride. Don't let anyone tell you Hufflepuffs are lame, because if they do I will come and slap them with my mental bitch-slapping hand. I have a hand that is especially for bitch-slapping because there are too many HuffPuff haters in the world. 

Cross-body bag: my great-grandma's with my gold belt attached with safety pins as a strap--classy, I know

Earrings: birthday present from my mom 

Those earrings are possibly the most painful things to get in. You have to drag a chain through the piercing in order to wear them properly. Mmmm.

It has a secret slit! I felt like Angelina Jolie all night, really. It goes higher, trust me. I just wanted to keep things PG. 

I had a few technical difficulties with my self-timer. 

It took several hours, a shiz ton of black nail polish, and a borderline poisonous amount of Absorbine Jr. (or Horse Juice, as I like to call it) to get my nails to look like that. Lola and I tried most of the ones from this post before realizing that splattering your nails with paint can in fact possibly go wrong.

I have one final day before school officially starts. DearGodsaveme. I had an awesome summer though, and hopefully you did, too. Autumn is one of my favorite seasons (because we have so many to choose from), so I'm getting quite excited about it. I am so done with walking around with a perpetual coat of perspiration on my body.

Merry Fashion Week! Let the games begin.

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Trending For Pre-Fall: Sunshine

Gooooooood morning, readers! It's Saturday, September 1st! The morning of! I'm using an excessive amount of exclamation points to mask how terrified I am that school and Fashion Week begin in five days! Ahhhhhhahahahaha!

The above information proves that this post is quite timely--the end of summer means the end of the pre-fall trend reports, because real fall is coming up. Twenty days, guys. I saved the cheerio cheeriest one for last, the one that calls back memories of dem lazii summah dayz: yellow. Sunshine. Is California really the Sunshine State? The world may never know.  

In December, I told you to make like a pack of Skittles and explore the rainbow; make like a hotdog and wear condiments...in essence, I advised you to dress like food. Sort of. The designers are not done with the most neglected member of the primary color family, it seems. I'm lovin' it (that was secretly a double McDonald's reference, since the "M" is also yellow). More power to the lemons and daffodils! 

I've always thought it was funny that everyone loves blondes and wants to be blonde--how often is it really that a blonde goes brunette in comparison to how many flaxen-haired fakers there are out there?--yet people think the color yellow itself is not too pleasing. "It makes me look sickly," someone may explain. "I can't wear colors that bright, they make me uncomfortable," says another. Bah humbug! Bypass these silly qualms and just hop into it! Find the shade that suits your skin tone best, the hue that tickles your fancy most, slap it on your body, and walk out the door! It's as simple as that! If your skin tone is an awkward shade of yellow like mine, stick to light, lemony tones that don't pull out that I'm-about-to-vomit color on your face. Yes, that is why people stayed a good few feet away from you last time you wore that mustard-colored shirt. If you have fair skin, vibrant and dark yellows are a good choice. I'd stay away from pale yellows just because they might wash you out a bit. If you have dark skin, mustardy hues and deep yellows are poifect. 

[Photos via style.com.]

Primary (lessons in) yellow:

                          Diane von Furstenberg                                                   Oscar de la Renta

          

                                     Erdem                                                               Oscar de la Renta

          

Lighten up!

                               Alexander Wang                                                    Diane von Furstenberg

          

                                Alice + Olivia                                                              Balenciaga 

          

                                      Erdem                                                         Moschino Cheap and Chic

          

Goldilocks wants her hair back:

                                Nicole Miller                                                                     Chanel

          

                          Diane von Furstenberg                                             Moschino Cheap and Chic 

          

Yeah! Pre-fall is done! Other things that are done: my internship at Lyn Devon. It was an awesome two weeks in which a learned a great deal about many things. There will be more to come on that in Monday's Chictopia article, so keep your eyes peeled. That reminds me--bananas! They are yellow as well! I digress. Internship. Right. On my last day yesterday, I was putting address stickers on envelopes for the invitations to the Spring 2013 trunk show. I felt like I was in a live episode of "Dora the Explorer;" all of the people I'd delivered garments to throughout the ten days had their names on the sticker sheets. Everything was coming full circle. It's like that part of the episode where all of their friends from the past twenty minutes come back for their party on the top of the hill, except I had never met these people and we were not, in fact, partying on top of a hill. 

FashionWeekFashionWeekFashionWeek so much to do, so little time. What iz sleep? Wut iz exercise? Hah! Theez do not exist. 

Enjoy your freedom while you still have it! Please! 

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