Harlem’s fashion row celebrates 10 years while i contemplate whether i’m over- or underdressed currency conversion usd to aud

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Problem: I’m a full-figured woman aud to usd forecast 2016. The way I’m shaped, I can’t just throw on black pants, black boots and a chic black top without looking like I still work at Macy’s. (Shoutout to my employer from 2008 to 2009!) I also regularly struggle with walking in heels, still cursed from that time I went on my first newspaper reporting assignment in Bakersfield, Calif., that involved me standing on concrete in stiletto boots, for hours, waiting for the police to pull a submerged car out of a ravine near the old Rockin’ Rodeo.

Unlike Washington, D.C., where I lived off and on for six years, the New York party dress code is more “whatever you think looks good … in shades of black,” and less “government/corporate dull suit and boring dress with kitten heels” after work trusted binary reviews. It’s also definitely not Atlanta’s “LOOK AT ME in 10 pounds of makeup” or Miami’s “see and be seen …


while sexy” social scene, either eur usd converter. So I quite honestly never know what to wear.

I debated wearing a Falcon Crest-esque, throwing-champagne-in-someone’s-face-in-the-1980s dark-blue dress with high shoulder pads and my old standbys: various African-print dresses that, depending on what shoes you wear, look either dressed up or dressed down.

Unfortunately, I barely knew anyone, because my world is media, not fashion gdp to usd. Of the few folks I knew because I’d met them a handful of times—the always glamorous entrepreneur and author Lauren Maillian, style and beauty expert/TV personality Paul Wharton and columnist/syndicated radio star Flo Anthony—it had been so long since I’d seen them that they didn’t recognize me at first.

Or at least that was the case with Flo, with whom I spent most of a trip to Los Angeles for the African American Film Critics Association Awards about six months ago. (I don’t think it helped that I have drastically changed my look—cutting off my trademark long, dark, oft-straightened mane and turning it into a short, blond, bouncy natural cut … but it could also be that I wasn’t memorable! The woman meets so many people!) For others, like Paul, it had been so long (like six years) since I’d seen them, it felt incredibly awkward to chat them up.

I also had the briefest-of-brief conversation with Al Reynolds, one of those folks you know but you have no idea why you know them, who I swore was someone else I knew from D.C. until I was halfway through the conversation in which he actually joked about how awful Washington is. (I actually love the D.C. area—in all its awfulness and beauty—and miss it at times, but that’s neither here nor there.) Anyway, I couldn’t even tell you who I mistakenly thought he was, and I’m sure he’d be horrified to know I thought he was a D.C. person, so let’s keep that between us, shall we?

While the party was all the things I like in a hot New York City party—crowded and fun, with lots of free food and drinks—I knew it was time to go home when one of the waitstaff started hitting on me nzd usd exchange rate. I had been worried all night that somehow my short hair had turned me into the invisible woman (I’ve only had one date since I chopped it all off months ago), but what do you know? Random guys with thick accents still think I’m the one.

Even though the chances were minimal that my outright rejection would not be met with hostility at a fancy cocktail party where dude was supposed to be working, I’d never gone wrong in overestimating the size of a man’s ego when you’re rejecting him.

He politely bowed out, telling me how great I looked and how “lucky” my nonexistent husband was, and I quickly called it quits, absconding away into the rainy night in a Lyft, where the driver and I indulged our inner basic bitches and talked about Power the whole ride back to midtown.

Got an event in New York City that you want me to attend where I’ll have an existential crisis while I eat all your cheese and crackers, then write about it? Hit me up here!

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