feature: rihanna for W magazine september issue

'Style icon, wild child, creature of the night. Bad gal RiRi comes alive after midnight.' 

A strangely alluring introduction.

And, of course, I felt it would be only right to feature Rihanna's latest editorial appearance - this time, in the September issue of W Magazine. Rihanna, or as she's referred to by the publication, the world's Wildest Style Icon, has endeavoured to cement her place as one of pop's most influential 'fashionistas', gracing the pages and covers of Lui, Vogue Brasil, and Harper's Bazaar Arabia in recent times.

I have to admit, I'm far more interested in Rihanna's ever changing looks than when she's dropping her latest single (I've honestly never been a fan of her music), but her noticeable infiltration into the fashion industry has benefited her greatly, as her fanbase seems to thrive on much more than just her music.

Shot by Mert Alas & Marcus Piggott.


I always look/feel half asleep. Yet when it's time for me to actually sleep, I would probably find stabbing myself in the eye considerably easier. (it's 4am).
I was going to do a 'get to know the blogger' thing, but I can't even muster up the energy to think, so here is a moving picture and an accompanying #banger

I still find blogging kind of weird, but it's a good outlet - creatively, emotionally, and otherwise. I have moderately exciting things planned and may even add other contributors. I'm also hoping to post some interviews, artwork, and more photography in the near or distant future :)

If you'd like to contribute yourself, whether artistically, writing, reviews, music, submissions - contact me.


It has literally been over two years since I last posted on here. I find that so weird. I remember making my last post so vividly, thinking it was perhaps a few months ago. This brings to the forefront of my mind how incredibly fast time goes past, and accompanied by the constant revisiting of that thought is the dull yet relentless ache of apprehension, fear, uncertainty. What exactly is my life hurtling towards, where are we all rushing to?  I still can't decide whether it was an interesting read, or whether it was pretentious pseudo-intellectual babble, but I read somewhere that time seems to go faster the older you get because you become conscious of the space of one year in relation to how many years you've been alive. To a one year old, a year would seem like a lifetime because, well, that is exactly what it is. To a 21 year old, a year is just 1/21st of your life, that is less than 5 percent of the time you've been alive. The equivalent of just under 3 weeks to a one year old. To be honest, it's pretty unsettling to dwell over.
As our years seem to flash before us, we're left with less and less opportunity to actually enjoy Time.
Time is something everyone craves, something so crucial, so precious, so constant - and something we so often fail to appreciate. Time is our least valued gift.


Ch. 1
You're the only person
That can conjure such a rollercoaster of emotions in such a minute space of time,
A white-knuckle ride. The second you board, your mind is clouded with regret.
You know there's no getting out of it, so you face it head-on.
One thing you can be sure of is that it'll leave you feeling sick.

Ch. 2
Your words leave a mark.
A tear, a hole, a void, a scalding burn, a seeping wound,
It's an excruciating pain, but I hang on to each and every syllable
Until it becomes too much to take, so I shout back at you,
And it drowns out everything I don't want to hear,
And as I shout back, I'm having to tell you
All the things I thought I didn't need to say.
I'm spewing a thousand sentences a minute
But they all sound like 'I love you'.


Taken in the same location.
Juxtaposition is such a douchebag word, but it fits right?

a fine mess

So, it's rapidly dawning on me that my future plans may not proceed as intended. I'm just too blazé about the whole thing, and my nonchalance kind of frightens me in a really oxymoronic way. I'm an oxymoron. Emphasis on the latter part of the word. ..I'm clearly finding humour in these dark times. And that's the problem, to be honest.

I have so many ambitions; I must say, I'm as ambitious as they come. I'm also as lazy as they come, and the two qualities almost cancel each other out. I always aim so high, but when the time comes to reach those heights, this nonchalance causes me to fall short. As I type, I'm sitting here thinking about all the things I could be doing, with absolutely no intention of doing them. The more I think about them, the closer I feel I am to actually getting up doing something. But, from past experience, I'm almost certain I won't.

I know what I have to do, I'm just not sure how. And as this entry concludes, the thought of merely opening a book dissolves, just as quickly and spontaneously as it was formed.

by B.T. Eno