Mags Loves Jimi

“They thought I was a Surrealist, but I wasn't. I never painted dreams. I painted my own reality.” ― Frida Kahlo

Month: April, 2014

All that (Glitters)


I like clichés.

There is certainly an ambiance about them. I have heard the usual ones like; “you don’t know what you have til it’s gone”, “time heals all wounds” , and my personal favourite, “it is better to be safe than sorry.”

My father is a Buddhist – that does not necessarily have anything to do with his philosophical beliefs or religious practices in relation to clichés (or why he insists on calling me Yoko even though I do not look anything like the Japanese artist) – but he did tell me “all that glitters is not gold” when I was younger. I understood the fundamental basics of his statement; everything that takes our fancy does not necessarily have a relevant place in our lives and the  things that are  most attractive and appear to have a large weight doesn’t automatically mean it holds value. The message was loud and clear: be careful of what you value as it may not be as it seems. For the sake of this article I will refer to the Shakespearian version:

All That Glitters Is Not Gold

Meaning: Not everything that is shiny and superficially attractive is valuable.

Origin: The original form of this phrase was ‘all that glisters is not gold’. The ‘glitters’ version long ago superseded the original and is now almost universally used. Shakespeare is the best-known writer to have expressed the idea that shiny things aren’t necessarily precious things. The original editions of The Merchant of Venice, 1596, have the line as ‘all that glisters is not gold’.

I love clothes. I love the instant story you can showcase and how at any given time that story can change – have dramatic flairs, emotional frills and surprising reactions from both the viewers and yourself. I have always been a lover of bold and bright colours but it took a while when I was younger to fully embrace my loveliness. Since then I have become more in touch with my creative self and therefore been fully able to use colour and print to get to the heart of my soul. Intense? You better believe it.

When I think about the things that I value or the brands that I adore, there are few that come to mind. As a Fashion Marketing student there are certain career options you can take on to develop your skill set. Internships are one of them. I have and are currently in an internship at the moment. The previous ones I have undertaken have been in the fashion industry at fashion houses. The certain one I am talking about (for privacy reason I will not name which one though it is a globally recognised brand) was a dream come true. I had been a great fan of this brand’s collections and spent many a penny on purchasing their attire.

I thought I had an emotional connection to its story and history. I soon found out, I was disillusioned by the marketing mix and there was no real cultural strings we both could tie together. Now, of course, my opinion at the moment is completely subjective to my experience at the brand. The problem was simple: I took too much stock in the emotional connection and perceived benefits I was receiving when purchasing the product. That is not to say that my appreciation for the brand was misplaced but in terms of basing my professional opinion in comparison to my personal opinion of the brand, then yes, it was. In one of my subjects a fabulous teacher of mine (Ms S) explained to us the process of the marketing mix. I am quick to remember a quote we were shown:

“Consumers don’t buy products or product attributes.

They purchase benefits and emotional meaning.”

Theodore Levitt

This is definitely my experience when referring to this brand. It is easy to place products, people or places on a pedestal in our emotional psyche as they elicit a mood within us. Is there anything wrong with that? No, of course not. However, we cannot base the reality of a situation on a subjective feeling or “perceived benefit” of something or someone. It can only lead to disappointment when there is a tangible goal that needs to be achieved or a need that must be fulfilled and it isn’t.

They say fortune favours the bold, but does glitter give you gold?

No, but it will definitely give you something pretty to look at and hey, that’s worth a bit of a nibble of the carrot.

# Post 7 (The Journey)












                              a thought.

Are we there yet?

What Is It About? (If It’s Not About You)


I recently read an article about a 27-year-old Med Student in America who is selling her virginity and thus has a blog; ( to document her journey. Now I am a woman of faith and that does have certain connotations regarding my stance on sexual immorality which doesn’t necessarily comply with the choices I have made in my life up to this present moment. This post, however, is not about me per se, but rather about us.

I have a wide circle of friends and within that circle is another circle and within that is what I like to call a heart-shaped circle. My two friends and I (lets call them Mini and Dimples for the sake of privacy) have known each other for a long time. Mini and I have been friends since the first week of high school all those years ago and I met Dimples only a mere 2 years after that. We catch up with each other every so often as our lives have taken us on different paths with different schedules. Nevertheless we still find the time to have dinner or a puffed cheeked, Colgate inspired chickflick movie-night. I really enjoy these with women who know how to make me cringe and coo at the same time. Because I respect their opinions I asked them a question that was tittering around my mind…

My thoughts go back to when I first read this article on Elitedaily and was outraged at the sheer moxie of this women. I was lying in bed with my boyfriend (TDB – Tall, Dark and Broody or affectionately known as Bubble Butt) and I could feel the blood pumping through my temples to my fingers as I scrolled down the pages; stopping occasionally to let out a huff only women of colour would understand. We do this when we are in disbelief over something or, quite simply, have pure and sharp judgement. BB was unfazed by my explanation of what I thought was feminism at its worst, (though lets remember, I had my fabulous yet overly dramatic Judgement Fedora on).

I was saddened by her pragmatic approach to the lifespan of her hymen. Was it such a big deal? Why did it bother me so much when I had no connections to this woman or her goals, ideals and beliefs… or did I? The more I raged the more I wondered if she was raging too. This woman clearly believes she is in control and this control has given her a rare key to freedoms – both financial and physical – she is in need of. What can I say to someone who has figured it all out?  I wondered if she knows of the emotional development she is bound to experience once the wheels are in motion and the pennies (or millions – if she’s lucky) has dropped. I do not have anything against Elizabeth. I wish her the best in her endeavours both contractually, professionally and personally. She has raised her hand and decided she will not conform to a societal view of her virginity.

It begs to ask the question; Was it the chicken or the egg or, more appropriately, the ovaries or the money?

“Lastly, I would like to end on a bit more of a serious note. Believe it or not, I am not without a social conscience and have given considerable thought to the implications of virginity, virginity auctions, and my own actions. As you probably know, in almost every society a high value is placed on a woman’s virginity. Unfortunately, far too often, this value is wielded as tool of female suppression – usually by chaining virginity to morality, in place of more important virtues such as intelligence, kindness, courage, and good humor. In stark contrast to this, my independence, education and freethinking mind place me in the very unique and powerful position of being able to do with my virginity what I will. While I do not wish for such a high value to be placed on virginity, this is the current reality. Considering this reality, I ask you, shouldn’t the value of virginity benefit women rather than hurt them? I see no good reason why I should not take advantage of mine. So while my virginity auction may be and should be a topic of debate, I hope you can tell it is my sincere belief that I am not on the wrong side of this social issue. I will also say, at its core this is a very personal matter, and no one who dares to judge has the same perspective I do or will be as affected by this decision as me. From where I am sitting, this feels right and just plain clever. Is it possible it will turn into a mistake? They say anything is possible, but there really is only one way to find out!”

# Post 6 (A Sure Thing)




I used to be


– The true things.

Little snippets of paper mashed –

L’Oreal stained, saliva drained.


A time I really can’t remember.

The wind told me

A storm was coming,

Harvesting all those

Seedling spawns,

Lost fabric

No measuring tape could hold.

And am I really surprised?

Head not focussed,

Zoning in and out of the 20/20 vision

I’m sure to have.

But I used to be sure…

So very sure

That I wouldn’t,

– No, I couldn’t!

 Be so unsure of you.

# Post 5 (In Fashion )




Is at the tip.

Frenzied palettes –

Pick a size.

Next day. On its way.


Love is on sale

# Post 4 (Lovestoned)



Forceful fingers cling

On to words that say:

“Don’t go.”

Okay, let’s talk.

What if I told you to sing me that song

And, play that tune?

Would you then want me to leave?

Is it hard

To catch the winged words that dance over us both?

I live in this world fuelled by my own promises,

Speaking tales of worship not worth collecting

And easy lies that feel so new.

Silent stories are memories conjured;

Coloured and soaked in crimson so deep

The curve of my lips

 – The same weight my hips

Are forced to carry –

Vomited in omission.

But you look at me, eyes big and bright –

And mine as well,

Untouched by that kaleidoscope of haze (just yet) –

Hanging out for words; apologies.

As if, it’s really what I want to hear.

And I still remember the hype filled smoke,

Talking about the inferno

In your eyes.

# Post 3 (Sunday Morning)



Bed sheets mould onto my skin

Deepest of the browns

So you can’t see the stains on my bed,

But of course you have a way of setting any scene on fire.

You’re pulling me too fast;

My unsteady hands fail to grip on your walls of Jericho

And somehow I ended up with all the king’s men.

They showered me with their gifts;

Their smell seeping with mine and

Smooth hands and fingers undress my willing body

Just as easy as you do my mind.

Do the flames of my unrestricted passion

Burn more than my words?

# Post 2 (Saturday Night)



It’s 5 in the morning

And ash never looked so good

In the light you provide.

We related –

Remember how we spoke?


Didn’t I need to stress the

Significance of our encounter?

But you knew.

The moments toss and turn in a mind

Where nothing fits in the

Décor of my own choosing.

Tattered ribbons of orange, deep and vibrant –

You know these tones

That shade this pattern.

I want to try it your way

With my colours

Moulding in your box.

Are my palettes too honest for you?

They mean more in the dim-lit

Light you provide but


How we love the dark.

Can you see my silhouette on top and across;

Grinding underneath a frame

Much larger than mine?

Sweat stained tears that wouldn’t

Fall on you even if I wanted.

Yes, it was good for me too.

# Post 1 (Thinking of you)



I started thinking of you.

Again I thought of all the



and tapered

metaphors I could use to describe your fingers down my spine.

I was missing again.

It was the familiar feeling of

side hugs and enclaves.

I’ve been thinking of you.