On High Maintenance Women

Happy Friday,

It's been a while! I use this phrase more than I should, it's a guilty procrastinators way of subtly apologising for their incompetence. For those that care, I am back! With a video blog on high maintenance women.

The fact I filmed this vlog wearing a sequined gold jacket with Chanel earrings is an irony that does not fail to escape me. I do sincerely hope the visual contradiction does not detract from the spirit of the message.

As per usual I'll refrain from commenting further on the content of the blog. Please!

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For that have already and will, thank you!

I get asked to do hair and beauty vlogs a lot, though I find it flattering that the state of my hair/makeup has finally progressed from the comical state it was permanently in through 1998 to circa 2006, I remain diffident about my abilities. I'll leave the beauty vlogging to those that do it well.

Sidebar: My go to beauty blogger of the moment is Shirley of Meek~n~Mild check her site/videos for hair and beauty tips! www.meek-n-mild.com Did I mention she writes on The Tip too? www.thetiponline.com

However since I get a lot of asks...

Face

In terms of what I used in that video/in general

Foundation: Bobby Brown, Oil Free Compact Golden 6. I've found Bobbi Brown to be the best foundation for my skin. Great match, not too heavy and the right amount of coverage. I don't use it often because I'm still not confident in terms of its application, plus I don't like foundation...but I'm gettig there.

Mascarra: Miss Sporty, Fabulous Lash. Cheap and cheerful. My bestie recommended it to me and it has changed my life. I will stage a protest if it is ever discotinued.

Eyeliner: Sleek, twist up pencil. Cheap and does the job (I'm sensing a trend).

Eyeliner 2 (used on lids) : Blue Heaven, Kajal. It's a product from India and is incredible. It's black as soot and soft. I'd like to shout out my eyebrowologist Mena for introducing me to India's best kept secret/

Blush: Nars, Exhibit A (if blushes could be books in the bible, pretty sure this would be in the pentateuch, it's THAT crucial) and Sleek, Flamingo.

Lips: Can't be bothered to dig through my bag. But I'm pretty sure the gloss is a clear one by Bourjois and the lipstick is a hot pink by Rimmel (maybe?)

Hair

Colour: I don't know my hairdresser Amanda bleached it for me. I simply obediently sat in the chair. It's technically a honey blonde.

Products: Kera Care Silken Seal (great for gloss and finish) and L'Oreal Elnett supreme hold because it's a hairspray that can hold through anything...if you get my drift *cough* Daily I use Elasta QP Olive Oil & Mango Butter Moisturizer.

In the video I'm wearing 3 tracks for a bit of lenghth and bounce, the hair brand I'm currently using is Milky Way, it's colour 4/30. The hair type is yaki because the texture's rough enough to blend with my natural hair.

In terms of shampoo and conditioner, I switch between Kera Care and Motions. Currently I'm loving Kera Care's conditioner, it's superb.

Erm, that's it in terms of makeup/hair stuff. I was asked to give a hair/beauty tip and all I have at the moment is drink lots of water and always believe in your sexy. Hope that was useful!

Thanks for reading,

Christiana xxx

Create Don't Hate

Happy Friday,

I finally got around to posting this video blog! I recorded it a few weeks back (before I went very blonde at the front of my hair) and kept procrastinating, hence why it didn't go up. Alas I have may vices and procrastinating is the one I can't seem to shake. Procrastinating, over-shopping, over-thinking, under-exercising....yeah let me not list my vices!

As per usual I won't extrapolate further on the content in the vlog. The title sums up its message 'Create Don't Hate'. As a victim of anonymous internet haters via comment sections *waves at the e-haters*, I guess this is the closest thing those people will get to a response. Create more than you criticise. If you're doing more criticising than creating, you're wasting your life. Life is too short to spend it tearing down others, build up yourself so you can in turn help someone else. If you find you have so much vitriol within you, you're compelled to transfer that negative energy to someone else, seek therapy. I say that in all seriousness. Your pain is not there to be transferred to someone else. It is your responsibility to deal with your pain and by doing so you become a better person. Let me stop! I'm trying to not come across as a didactic elitist... : )

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At the moment I'm awaiting an ASOS delivery. Pretty convinced that shopping was ordained by God, but internet shopping was the brainchild of Satan. Do you know how many hours I spend on netaporter.com? There's only so much shoe porn a woman can watch without giving in and becoming a participant. I don't know the names of many of my cousins, however I know the names of shoes, bags and dresses. Why am I telling you this? Oh yes I'm awaiting my ASOS delivery, so I must go because I don't want to miss it. Plus I think I've divulged enough about my sick (yet oh so delightful) sartorial addiction(s).

Hope you all have an excellent weekend and thank you for all the support.

Best,

Christiana

xxx

Growing up African

Any child of immigrants will attest to the fact that there is a 'moment' you realise your home life is distinctively different from that of your peers. Mine came when I was corrected on my pronunciation of the word “crisps”. I always thought it was “crips”. When I exclaimed to my friend “but my mum says it CRIPS” she seemed rather appalled and retorted “well your mum’s saying it wrong”. Over the years it became apparent that it wasn’t just the way my family spoke that was different, it was also the way we lived.

Though there are similarities, children of immigrants don’t all have the same story. Some of our parents pushed against assimilation and others encouraged integration. Then there were the parents who feared the dilution of their core cultural values, but didn’t want their children to feel left out, so they promoted both integration and rejection.

Depending on their experiences growing up and the ideologies they adopt as an adult, we invariably have radically different perceptions concerning our identities. Some us struggle with a sense of belonging and ask ourselves "where do I belong?" Others aware they're fortunate to have been born “abroad” wrestle with internal guilt. The privilege that comes with being born in the West (especially when juxtapositioned with the perilous state of much of the developing world) burdens many with a sense of responsibility they haven’t chosen to bear.

Then there are those like myself who for whatever reason have never been preoccupied by such questions. However the fact we’re not preoccupied by our national identity and picking a side, leaves us vulnerable to accusations of being a 'sell out’ or not knowing who we truly are.

The politics and complexity of identity aside, I’ve found "belonging" and being familiar with two worlds means my life is richer. I have a deep insight into two cultures. I'm aware of their points of tensions and areas of overlap. My perspectives and experiences have a width and depth they would otherwise lack. This means I understand cockney rhyming slang and Igbo (sadly I speak neither). I can make bangers and mash and then pound yam for my dad (the quality of both dishes is horrendous). Ultimately being from two worlds has taught me the lesson that all people have more in common than they believe. We all seek the same things, love, acceptance and security; we simply have different methods of pursuing our aims. Finally, if a person is good (or bad) it is not because of their culture or nation of origin, it is in spite of it.

I remember growing up and cringing at some of my parents idiosyncrasies. Now I look back and marvel at how two individuals who came here with nothing built incredible lives for themselves and their children. This story of hustle, determination, tenacity, belief and vision is not unique to my parents. Despite what the Daily Mail and other right wing news outlets like to propagate, most immigrants don’t migrate simply to take from society, they come to give. They seek to give to a better life to their children, give to their families back home and ultimately they give back to society.

Today I'll focus on some of the random experiences that occur when you’re raised in the West by parents from Africa. I shared some of these thoughts on Facebook and Twitter earlier last week and two things struck me. Firstly, the sheer number of people who identified with what I wrote. Secondly, how people from other cultures, be it West Indian, Irish, Indian, Arab, English or Polish, also identified with my anecdotes. Apparently it's not just African parents, all parents are a bit special (crazy).

Things that occur when Growing up African.....

That moment of shock when you discover everyone doesn't bath with a bucket and sponge.

That day you discover that they don't serve Supermalt in pubs. In fact they don't serve it anywhere. Most people outside your milieu have never heard of Supermalt. This fact will puzzle you forever.

Finding out the woman you call grandma isn't your grandma. Neither is your aunty, your aunty. Or your cousin, your cousin. In fact 95% of the people you refer to with a term that suggests they're a blood relation are not.

Contrarily, you're often dragged to parties and introduced to someone you have never met who is actually your cousin, aunty or uncle. Due to convention you must then have a conversation where the starter question is "how is school?" No matter how school is going you say "good”

The realisation "how is school?" will be the starter question for every conversation you have with an aunty or uncle until you graduate. When you graduate the question becomes "when are you getting married?"

Going to parties and there's a high table for special guests. Ironically the table is often not that high. It's just an ordinary table covered with wrapping paper and draped with Christmas lights. At some parties there are more people on the high table than at the rest of the party.

Weddings usually begin 1-3 hours late.

Conversations that begin with rhetorical questions such as "Am I your mate?" and "Are you calling me a fool?" rarely end well.

The phrase "Can you imagine" never requires the use of your imagination because it normally follows/precedes a story told in vivid detail.

That embarrassing moment when you go to the airport and despite obsessively using the scales at home, your mum has excess luggage. You stand at the check-in desk watching your parents try and negotiate a deal so they don’t pay for excess luggage. When that fails, they start to "spread the weight" across the suitcases. When that fails they eventually hand over the stuff they really didn't have to take to the relative who drove you to the airport. The first 3 hours of the flight back to Africa is spent with your mum lamenting over the luggage lost.

The shock when you discover that using "Plum Tomato" isn't the only way to make stew.

The phrase "the devil is a liar" is used as an exclamation, response, question, and declaration.

That moment of confusion when you realise that women getting money thrown at them whilst they dance is considered objectification. At the parties/weddings we’re taken to, having a bunch of dollar bills thrown at you is called getting ‘sprayed’. It simply means you're dancing well. And if you're anything like me you've discovered it's a great way of funding your shoe fetish.....

Going to parties in school/community halls and all the drinks are in a big black bin filled with ice.

Living in a house filled with “Souvenirs” collected from parties means you can start the day drinking tea from a mug with a dead man's face on it. On the mug are the words "Chief Adeyemi goes to glory. Sleep well Daddy. Psalm 23:1”

Pretending to be dead after a severe smacking. Your parents never believe you're dead and if they do they either 1) Smack you more to wake you up 2) Leave you for "dead"

Being called downstairs to change the channel, even though the remote is NEXT to your mum.

Trying not to stare at that aunty who shaves off her eyebrows and draws them back on.

That awkward painful silence that envelops the room when a sex scene comes on TV.

When the ends of your extensions have been burned and keep sticking to your school jumper.

The first time you decided to experiment and told your parents to 'shut up'. What happened after is too painful to share on this blog.

Discovering you won't have a room for months because an 'aunty'/'uncle' is coming from back home and they're taking your room. If you're fortunate you'll be notified a day prior to the event.

Microsoft Word putting a squiggly red line underneath your name after you type it. Actually that still happens….


Your mum saving oil to refry food in it. So your plantain tastes like fish. Or your chips taste like plantain.

Your dad giving your schoolteacher permission to "cane" you. She looks appalled and politely refuses. He's disgusted.

Being threatened with getting sent back to the "village" whilst your friend Tommy gets put on the "naughty step"

"Dad I got 96%!!" "Where's the other 4%? The girl that came first did she have two heads?"

Going into the freezer, taking out a tub of ice cream, opening it and feeling devastated when you discover it's frozen stew. This still regularly happens to me.


Best,

Christiana


xxx

The decline of ladies and gentlemen

The discourse surrounding men and their behaviour is rather polarised. On one side we have those who believe all (or at the very least most) men cheat, lie, have commitment issues, dislike hard work, will forget your birthday and insist on playing mind games. If you're particularly misfortunate you may meet and fall in love with a man who manages to possess all of the above traits.

Then we have the romantics. Those who passionately believe every woman is predestined to meet a man who will perfectly fit her imperfections and specifications. In ‘The One’ she'll find the love, security and serenity she seeks, and finally be able to retire from the futile dating game. Unfortunately we don’t often speak about ‘Mr Average’, the man who lives in the gulf between the two myths. Much like the average woman, Mr Average is fundamentally good but prone to the occasional screw up.

In an ironic twist the reality about men seems to have become as skewed as the myths. Depending on where you go, who you know and what you believe, if you meet a man he’s either a demi-God or a fully fledged demon. Mr Average seems to have all but have vanished and at times it seems as though the demons outnumber the demi- Gods .

It is said there was once a time when being a gentleman was part of a man’s duty. Male identity was so bound up in gentlemanly conduct to behave otherwise was to choose to abdicate from your responsibility and masculinity. Those days are no more. There's been a downward shift in what society expects from men which has negatively impacted the standards men set for themselves. We’re in a bit of a predicament and many women are constantly asking "Where have all the gentlemen gone?"

Before writing this blog, I decided to discus the subject with one of my best friend’s and get his opinion. He raised a number of salient points about why there seems to be an underwhelming number of gentlemen. Firstly, hazy conceptions concerning what precisely it means to be a man and the subject of gender itself being immersed in unnecessary controversy and complexity means men who do display gentlemanly conduct are at risk of being labelled as the "nice guy" and instantly friend zoned.

Gestures that were once deemed gentlemanly are now viewed by some women as offensive. Such women (who he described as “crazier than Germaine Greer on her period”) feel insulted when men behave in a chivalrous manner, as they believe it implies they can’t take care of themselves. After assuring him that no woman I know personally would ever take offence if a man paid the bill or covered the taxi fare home, he responded with “That’s not because you’re post-feminist. That’s because you’d all rather spend your money on shoes. Witches” Yes he called us witches.

When my friend realised I intended to focus this blog on the decline of the gentleman he launched into a long monologue, most of which is too offensive to post. However the final part of his rant is worth sharing.....

“Christiana, where are the ladies? You can’t sit here and lament about the decline in gentlemen, when there are no ladies for real men to court. I'm not trying to deflect. I understand men need to step their game up. But I know even if they did step up their game a lot women aren't doing their part either. However no one’s talking about it because you’re all so sensitive… ”

After thinking carefully about my friend’s argument I came to the realisation I couldn’t blog about the decline in gentlemen without acknowledging that there are less women behaving like ladies.

Tracing the decline in the lady is a complex task. It’s an unsurprising turn of events considering we're in a culture where every female singer in the charts (bar Adele) seems to be in a competition with the next to see who can wear the least amount of clothes without revealing her labia.

We live in a bizarre time where a woman broadcasting intimate details about their sex life is empowering rather than crude. Being drunk and disorderly in public is viewed as liberating rather than uncouth. Edgy is better than elegance. Foulness is preferred to finesse. More (weave) is better than less.

For every man unaware of the power of a well-tailored suit, there's a woman who thinks leggings are trousers.

Sidebar: Leggings are not trousers.

For every man that doesn't walk on the right hand side of a lady, there's a woman that won't cross her legs. For every man that approaches a woman with unnecessary aggression, there's a woman who responds to a man with unnecessary abrasion.

Now I understand the discomfort surrounding labels such as gentleman and lady, they were popularised in a time when women were subservient and men were dominant patriarchs. However I don’t think our status quo is desirable either. A lot of women are losing out on the joys that come from being a lady and being treated as such. Countless men are losing out on the esteem that comes from being a gentleman.

It doesn’t have to be zero-sum. There is a middle way, where we take the best of the traditional conceptions of being a gentleman and lady and then blend it with our modern way of thinking.

In essence being a lady or gentleman is about striving to be excellent in all things. It means holding yourself to a standard that is higher than necessary. It's not so much about one’s appearance (though that comes into play) it's about conduct.

Being a gentleman or a lady involves a great deal of responsibility. We can shirk away from that responsibility or we can aspire to embrace it, and live it. The challenge I leave with all of us (myself included) is to strive to do the latter.

Best,

Christiana

xxx

How To Be Confident

In my second year of university I selected a module called "The History of European Political Ideas" Its focus was on classic philosophical texts that have come to underpin European political ideas, institutions and conventions. The hope was to give us insight into some of the great thinkers that came before us. If we understood their work, we would better understand our world and just maybe, better understand ourselves.

The syllabus was broad but its breadth wasn't at the expense of depth. Due to the brilliance of the writers chosen if read scrupulously each text had the power to remould you. If you conquered Hegel, you conquered yourself, for you learnt patience and how to push through the absurdly abstract. If you were able to embrace Mill, you'd understand the value of tolerance, no matter how irksome a person's idiosyncrasies or ideologies. By connecting with Hobbes you acknowledged the fear and diffidence alive within all of us, though we rarely speak of it.

There was one philosopher whose work I connected with. I understood him and even though he wrote before my time I believed he understood me. His name was Machiavelli. When he wrote "it is better to be feared than loved" I believed (in) him and I agreed. Though I suspected he (like me), desired to be loved more than he was feared, no matter how unlovable he had convinced himself he was.

In Machiavelli's "The Prince" the concept of fortune is personified as an intangible and spiritual being named "Fortuna" Fortuna is a woman and rather volatile. She may work in our favour or against us. Fortuna's existence means we can only control so much. Machiavelli advocates that in order to restrain the power of Fortuna we must seek to become virtuous. Only inner virtue can act as a guard against her caprice. In hindsight I connected with the work of Machiavelli because I had my own personal Fortuna. My Fortuna was (and is) insecurity.

My position on the confidence spectrum vacillates. On some days I’m convinced I can do anything and on other days I'm unsure of what I can do or worse still, what I’m supposed to be doing. When I was approached by a reader to write a post about how to be confident, it made me smile. Who am I to be an authority? Especially as I’ve recently emerged from a paralysing crisis of confidence.

I learnt many things during my crisis of confidence. I learnt it won’t certainly be my last. Insecurity is like Fortuna. It cannot be destroyed. It will rear its ugly head when it's most inconvenient. I discovered investing energy into fighting my insecurities is exhausting. I’m battling a force with far more strength and experience than myself. After all insecurity has been screwing with humanity since humans began roaming the earth.

I learnt that we are hardwired to be insecure. To resist insecurity is to resist part of ourselves. It's what makes us greater than animals but less than the Gods. However the acceptance that our insecurities will always be with us doesn’t mean we should resign ourselves to being held captive by them.

As I grappled with my insecurity I learnt something beautiful about confidence. Confidence isn't the absence of insecurity; confidence is choosing to act in spite of its presence. These acts of confidence don’t have to be grand. They’re normally relatively small. Like choosing to smile at an abrasive stranger. Uploading a blog post that makes you cringe. Wearing an item that accentuates a body part you once tried to conceal. Leaning in for the kiss first.

The only forces that have power in our lives are the things we focus on. Focus on fear and fear will be your master. Focus on love and love will be your friend. Insecurity exerts a disproportionate amount of influence over us only when we give it disproportionate amount of our focus. However if we treat our insecurity as a banal fact and not care as much, its power diminishes.

We can never completely silence the oppressing voice of insecurity. What we can do is amplify our positive beliefs and thoughts. We must hold on to the belief that in spite of all the things that make us awful, there is much more in us that makes us good. They say faith is the antidote to fear, love is the antidote to hate, I’m not sure if there’s an antidote for insecurity, but I do think belief comes pretty close.

In closing I’ll say there is nothing instant about confidence, whether you’re trying to maintain it, restore it or find it. Whatever stage you’re at it’s a gradual process. I wasn’t sure how to end this blog post. Every single sentence I construct seems riddled with clichés and painful to read. However there’s a Donny Hathaway song called 'Someday We'll All Be Free' that articulates what I’d like to write. It’s more powerful when sung, but it reads well too.

“Hang onto the world as it spins around Just don't let the spin get you down. Things are moving fast. Hold on tight and you will last. Keep your self-respect your very bright. Get yourself in gear, Keep your stride. Never mind your fears. Brighter days will soon be here. Take it from me someday we'll all be free”

Love and Light

Christiana xxx

When Friendships Fail

Happy Friday : )

Hope you're all well!

I don't think I've ever published a video blog back to back, so this is a first. This vlog is about a journey I've been on in the last 9 or so months. I have a habit of (over) thinking about topics like failed friendship. Then (over) thinking about the fact I tend to (over) think. This is because, though I didn't openly admit it, I struggled to recover from a few friendships that fell apart. I hated the fact I couldn't dislike them and was angry that I still missed them, though they probably didn't miss me. Out of the abstraction of my feelings to the point of confusion, came this. Considering how complex those friendships were it was a surprisingly simple post.

Fast forward a few months later and I decided to do a video blog on failed friendships with more of a redemptive feel than usual. Hopefully I managed it? I'm not sure, I can't stand to watch my vlog's back, recording them is torturous enough.

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A few random things...

I can't stop listening to this 'R&B' artist called Frank Ocean. He's in Odd Future but isn't as dark or beautifully/productively sick as the rest of his crew. If you haven't already you can download his mixtape nostalgia,Ultra here I can't stop playing it. I want to marry his (right) brain.

Two friends of mine are doing EP/album launches. One is on April 6th at Hoxton Bar and Grill, they're a band called Mr Disfit and are kinda like a big deal (you heard it here first). You can buy advanced tickets here for £5 or it's £9 on the door. The doors open at 7.30.

The second is AKS a very talented young MC who has a formidable work ethic and is very skillful. He's launching his EP at The Queen Hoxton on April 10th. You can buy tickets in advance here for £4. The doors open at 7.

In other news I'm editing a lot at the moment for various projects and this space will be populated with a lot of posts over the next month or so. I'm still trying to deal with my shopping obsession, if any of you have suggestions please do send them my way. It seems that my like/love/lust for shoes, bags and clothes increases every single day.

Thanks for all the support : )

Love always

xxx

Women can't change men

Happy Friday!

I video blogged. I know it's astonishing considering my output on the video blogging (and blogging) side hasn't been what it should. For that I'm sorry, I need to learn how to balance things more effectively. If any of you have any tips on how to get more done, but still have some semblance of a social life and sleep for a decent amount of time, please email me!

As usual I won't expound further on the blog. It is what it is and all I ask is that you

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Sidebar: 'It is what it is' is a phrase that I've recently developed a habit of bandying about too much. I know it reeks of indifference, but it's the only phrase I know that sums up everything, yet attaches itself to nothing. Concrete vagueness is my new thing (I know it's an oxymoron). If any of you have any other concrete vague phrases please send them my way.

Some of you may know it's my birthday on Monday. I will be turning 24 (to think I started blogging at 21...frightening!) As I touch on from time to time, last year's birthday was the worst day of my life (and ironically the best day considering the miraculous outcome) because of the horrific car accident my sisters and I were involved in. The first part of being 23 was spent getting better and the rest of the time coming to grips with the fact my sight would never return to what it was.

I'm grateful to God to still be here. In light of what could have been, I can't not be. You know I'm not a fan of Oprah moments...but I'd like to say thank you to every single person that's helped me through what has been a tumultuous year. Family, friends, all of you that have sent lovely emails, tweets (or just lurked but kept visiting the site : ) ) yeah you're all a bit amazing. Specifically to my three remarkable sisters and my parents. Thank you!

As my life has become an administrative mess, I didn't get around to organising my 'I Didn't Die' party. Much to my distress, the gulf between my income and my taste is so vast, I wouldn't be able to have the party I want. I figure it's better I invest my time in opportunities that close the gap, instead of spending money and widening it.

It seems like my birthday will be spent sending up prayers of thanks, eating lots of cake and buying a pair of shoes that I've had my eye on for while. *clutches womb when she thinks about the price*

Love & Light

Christiana

xxx