them cha-cha heels

"Nice girls don't wear cha-cha heels." 24, New York | Texas Production | Design | Art | Modeling

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I believe that everyone has his own private happiness – when he has it. And to wish someone a happiness he might not want would be most imprudent. I don’t know exactly what you desire, and that is why I make my wishes extremely vague. But I have little fear of their not coming true. You have happiness within you: that is the safest, if not the only, way of having it. In any case, whatever may be the happiness you dream of (to dream of it is already to have it in the most ideal sense of the word, which as a good idealist I believe to be the only true one), I am sure it is a happiness of the very best quality.

Marcel Proust, from a letter to Horace de Landau written c. May 1894

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Lady Chatterley (Pascale Ferran, 2006)

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Life magazine, 1949. Photographed by Nina Leen. (x)

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“Holy places are dark places. It is life and strength, not knowledge and words, that we get in them. Holy wisdom is not clear and thin like water, but thick and dark like blood.”

– C.S. Lewis, Till We Have Faces  (via soie-et-cafe)

[themchachaheels]

We waste so much energy trying to cover up who we are when beneath every attitude is the want to be loved, and beneath every anger is a wound to be healed and beneath every sadness is the fear that there will not be enough time. When we hesitate in being direct, we unknowingly slip something on, some added layer of protection that keeps us from feeling the world, and often that thin covering is the beginning of a loneliness which, if not put down, diminishes our chances of joy. It’s like wearing gloves every time we touch something, and then, forgetting we chose to put them on, we complain that nothing feels quite real. Our challenge each day is not to get dressed to face the world but to unglove ourselves so that the doorknob feels cold and the car handle feels wet and the kiss goodbye feels like the lips of another being, soft and unrepeatable.

Mark Nepo, The Book of Awakening

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self-portraits (sundown, 2015)

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I have a deep, deep wound of doubt in my soul. I have wounded my soul for you – a deep wound of doubt which can never be healed. I can never know, never in this world. I do not wish to know or to believe. I do not care. It is not in the darkness of belief that I desire you. But in restless living wounding doubt. And now I am tired for a while. My wound tires me.

James Joyce, from Exiles: A Play In Three Acts  

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Intellectual, imaginative, romantic, emotional. This is what gives sex its surprising textures, its subtle transformations, its aphrodisiac elements. Sex loses all its power and magic when it becomes explicit, mechanical, overdone, when it becomes a mechanistic obsession. It becomes a bore. You are shrinking your world of sensations. You are withering it, starving it, draining its blood. If you nourished your sexual life with all the excitements and adventures which love injects into sensuality, you would be the most potent human being in the world. The source of sexual power is curiosity, passion. You are watching its little flame die of asphyxiation. Sex does not thrive on monotony. Sex must be mixed with tears, laughter, words, promises, scenes, jealousy, envy, all of the spices of fear, foreign travel, new faces, novels, stories, dreams, fantasies, music, dancing, opium, wine.

Anaïs Nin, The Diary Of Anais Nin, Volume 3; 1939-1944 

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Calvin Klein SS 2016 ready-to-wear

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I thought that having gone so deeply into my own feelings and dramas I could never again reach objectivity and knowledge of others. But now I know that any experience carried out deeply to its ultimate leads you beyond yourself into a larger relation to the experience of others. If you intensify and complete your subjective emotions, visions, you see their relation to others’ emotions. It is not a question of choosing between them, one at the cost of another, but a matter of completion, of inclusion, an encompassing, unifying, and integrating which makes maturity.

Anaïs Nin, from The Diary of Anaïs Nin, Vol. 3: 1939-1944  

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Nothing repels me more than absence of feeling. I found emotional chaos, impulses and hungers I mistook for feeling. There is a difference. Most people are hungry, amorous, they fall in love, but they do not love. They love the pleasures, the pains, the upheavals, the adventures. But they do not surrender. And I can no longer defend myself against the egotists.

Anaïs Nin, from The Diary of Anaïs Nin, Vol. 3: 1939-1944

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Louis Vuitton F/W 2013

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All truths are for me soaked in blood.

Friedrich Nietzsche 

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I am an excitable person who only understands life lyrically, musically, in whom feelings are much stronger as reason. I am so thirsty for the marvelous that only the marvelous has power over me. Anything I can not transform into something marvelous, I let go. Reality doesn’t impress me. I only believe in intoxication, in ecstasy, and when ordinary life shackles me, I escape, one way or another. No more walls.

Anaïs Nin

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The idea of liberation through the suppression of desire is the greatest foolishness ever conceived by the human mind. Why cut life short, why destroy it for so little profit as total indifference and the illusion of freedom? How dare you speak of life after you have stifled it in yourself? I have more respect for the man with thwarted desires, unhappy and desperate in love, than for the cold and proud philosopher. A world full of philosophers, what a terrifying prospect! They should be all wiped out so that life could go on naturally—blindly and irrationally. I hate the wisdom of these men unmoved by truths, who do not suffer with their nerves, their flesh, and their blood. I like only vital, organic truths, the offspring of our anxiety. Those whose thoughts are alive are always right; there are no arguments against them. And even if there were, they would not last long. I wonder how there can still be men searching for the truth. Do wise men not yet understand that truth cannot be?

Emil Cioran, from On The Heights Of Despair 

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Cushnie et Ochs S/S 2016