Flower Head

En el proceso de auto descubrimiento de todo ser humano, la llamada "realidad" supone una crisis peligrosa.
Todo ente busca ser fiel a aquella dama misteriosa que en teoría encarna el concepto más primario y puro de la existencia. Sin embargo, ¿Cómo distinguir lo real de lo ficticio? Ya que no podemos establecer que sea algo meramente abstracto, podemos decir que es más como una percepción quimérica del entorno.
Este monstruo de seductor rostro leonino es a su vez un maestro del disfraz con la habilidad de presentarse de distintas formas, desde una vil mesa, hasta un apasionado sentimiento; cualidad que dista de acercar al mortal al entendimiento de lo que son "proyecciones mentales" de acuerdo con las teorías de Maxtell.
Pero, ¿Por qué si esta conceptualización es tan camaleónica, es también tan profundamente cuestionada?
¿En qué momento ha pasado el homo sapiens a recriminarse mutuamente la veracidad de sus actos?
La idiosincrasia de la sociedad actual está teñida de intolerancia, desconfianza y engaño que ahora pone en jaque la existencia de un ser honesto e incorruptible al que podría llamársele "real".
Pero la realidad es un concepto subjetivo sin reglas o características.
No hay dos seres humanos iguales; aunque la fórmula de la concepción sea casi idéntica, el fruto de ésta nunca es igual.
Y ¿Cómo asegurar la pureza de cada uno de estos conjuntos de tejido proteico que deambulan por la faz de la tierra, si su naturaleza nata reside en el egoísmo?
Según Fernando Savater, el egoísmo solo es malo si trae desdicha al ente que de esta manera se comporta, por otro lado la autonomía es propia de ayudar al egoísta a cumplir sus metas y encontrar la felicidad, cosa que requiere de cierto comportamiento, no una máscara, pero si del seguimiento al pie de la letra de los parámetros sociales impuestos a ciertas situaciones y entornos.
Con esto se adquiere experiencia, la cual es almacenada en las redes neuronales de la materia gris que actúa como un comandante corrupto, rebelde y frustrado cuyo poder y control alcanza cada fibra del cuerpo en el que reside, pero se ve refutado al intentar aplicar sus reglas a si mismo o seguir sus deseos indomables e imperialistas fuera del cráneo que lo mantiene prisionero.
Semejante lucha constante entre uno mismo y la vida requiere de aprendizaje y cambio de táctica para prevalecer.
Esto hace de la mente un cuartel militar provisto de varios individuos, ninguno más real o más falso que el otro, sino con diferentes perspectivas.
Por lo tanto podríamos decir, que la verdadera realidad es la conceptualización del universo que florece en los recovecos de nuestra mente, cuyo sentido de supervivencia, rodea hasta el más hermoso retoño de mortíferas espinas cuyo manifesto se hace presente en los períodos dubitativos del día a día.
El mundo es real, las personas son reales, y son precisamente las cicatrices que ésta criatura mitológica inflige sobre nosotros, lo que nos obliga a llevar máscaras y recurrir a la autoflagelación que representa llegar hasta los retoños cerebrales más preciados con tal de no salir lastimados de nuevo.
Es difícil saber si algún día esa rememoración vegetal se liberara de la oscura caverna de tejido óseo en la que está enclaustrado, para mostrar el "yo" más profundo, el que se encuentra dentro del capullo y al que no podríamos denominar como "real", sino puro e inocente.
In human's process of self-discovery,"reality" may be seen as the epitome of a dangerous crisis.
Every entity seeks to be faithful to that mysterious lady which theoretically embodies the most primal and pure concept of existence.
However, how can reality be distinguished from fiction? Since we can not say it is something merely abstract, we can say that it is the chimeric perception of the environment.
This seductive leonine-faced monster is a master of disguise with the ability presen himself in different forms, from a vile table to a passionate feeling; quality that is far from making any mortal understand what according to the theories of Maxtell are just"mental projections".
But, why if this conceptualization is so chameleonic, do we dare to question it?
What triggered this mutual questioning between Homo sapiens about the truth of their actions?
The idiosyncrasies of society today is tinged with intolerance, distrust and deception that now threatens the existence of an honest and incorruptible being that could be called "real".
But reality is a subjective concept without rules or features. 
There are no two equal human beings; although the formula of conception is almost identical, the result of it is never the same.
And how to ensure the purity of each of these protein sacks that roam the face of the earth, if their true nature lies in selfishness?
According to Fernando Savater, selfishness is bad only if it brings misery to the one who so behaves, on the other hand, autonomy is proper to help fulfill goals and find happiness, which requires certain behavior, not a mask, but to follow certain social parameters imposed to each situation and environment.
The gained experience is then stored in the neural networks of the gray matter that acts as a corrupt, rebellious and frustrated commander whose power and control reaches every fiber of the body in which it resides, but is refuted when trying to follow it's own set of rules or follow his indomitable and imperialist desires outside the skull that holds him prisoner.
Such a constant struggle between oneself and life requires learning and change tactics to prevail.
This makes the mind a military barracks provided with several individuals, none more real or more fake than the other, but with different perspectives.
So we could say that the true reality is the conceptualization of the universe that blooms in the recesses of our mind, whose survival inctsinct is present as deadly thorns that surround to the most beautiful sprout who manifest themselves in the doubtful times of everyday.
The world is real, people are real, and the scars inflicted by that precise mythological creature, are the ones forcing us to wear masks and go through constant flagellation to reach the most precious blossoms in our brain to avoid getting hurt again.

It is difficult to know if someday that herberage recollection will free itself from the dark cave of bone tissue in which it is enclosed, to show the deeper self within the cocoon, one we could not label as "real" but as pure and innocent.
Xoxo, RWPF


MVA 2nd Anniversary!

Well, first things first... Happy tuesday guys, hopefully you are starting this week with the right heel! :)
As you might have read on MVA's social media, we are celebrating our second anniversary and I'm thrilled!
October the 2nd has become one of the most awaited dates on my calendar because it is when we celebrate the birth of a dream...
It is a celebration of the day I decided to take a leap in the direction where there was no trail, to start building my own path into the life I dreamt and still dream of living.
It's unbelievable how quickly time has passed and how in only two years since I started this journey, I've had the chance to meet extraordinary, talented, creative and intelligent people in the most dreamy events while doing what I love as a part time job collaborating with known publications, with you guys supporting me.
Truth be told I had been waiting this day for quite a few months and wanted to throw a big party, however when it finally arrived, I found myself immersed in the beautiful chaos of Fashion Week and stressful season of school finals.... Which might have been clear because of my lack of minute-tweeting before, during and after every show.
That's something I dislike for sure and have been struggling for the past seasons; the fact that my favourite month (Fashion months appart from December of course) simultaneously takes place with the most mentally exhausting weeks of my academic year it's sad, nevertheless is great to have some couture to nourish your neurons while taking a break from studying.
It's amazing how things can change in a year.
Last year's anniversary I wrote the story of how My Vintage Armoire came to life... But this year has been all about development.
I've been finding myself writting a lot lately and not precisly about Fashion, but about life.
I've been taking a little deeper approach on things regarding love or even the mistery of women footwear mostly due to the fact that I'm a teenager with a head full of tangled questions and theories who knows that the only way to conquer her mind and confidence is to get them out.
The first time I wrote one of my "friday night reflexions" I was scared, I felt like I had just undressed my thoughts and exposed them for everyone to see, but then you guys responded. Not with judgement, but with encouraging words saying you felt the same way.
Needless to say, THAT is the purpouse of all these... To share not only supernal experiences, dreams and luxurious clothes, but to share life, from guides to clean your closet, to hair cuts, to heart-breaks, to shoe shopping (best way to recover from a breakup if you ask me..)
Of course this deeper take has a lot to do with me changing, not only my haircut, but my take on life priorities, which has reflected on my style evolution.
It's funny to see how while rediscovering old pastimes and finding renewed fullfillment in them, water coloring, healthy cooking, or trainig for example, you also discover how much you've found yourself.
I didn't dress well two years ago (Let's be realistic like IGGY) , I didn't wear makeup or even like mascara, because I thought it made my lashes look bulky and now, here I am a complete NARSissit (read post to undestand), heel obsessed fashion junkie who's biggest fear on a daily basis is to waste a good outfit on an insignificant day. (Ok, not my biggest....That's me being fashionably dramatic, but somehow honest)
Being serious again, My Vintage Armoire is not my space to talk about Fashion anymore, it is my refuge and the only thing I have 100% control of.
I might not know where I am going, I might know nothing about boys or how life will look in the future, in fact I might be clueless about many things and not even know what will happen tomorrow or where I'l be and what will happen then ... The only thing I know is that I can write here about now. Discuss Frankl's psychology, the operation of a muscle, the intertextuality that lies in a haircut, the antipyretic remedy against sales, the best technique to remove old dress spectra from a closet, the  layering theory, the equation to go from cheap to chic and my beloved days at fashion week, which although they are a little messy to plan, are worth every second that I get to look at the pristine work of each designer, which in the end makes ​​me realize how much I love the industry, which I now know a bit better and live intensely thanks to you reading these words.
I can only thank you for joining me on this adventure, because this beloved treasure would be nothing without the presence of all of you.
Designers who make this world more beautiful, PRs inviting me to the scene, friends who endure my jibber jabber about tulle and leather, family who has been my mainstay through out this entire journey and my beloved readers supporting, encouraging and following me every step of the way.
Thank you from the bottom of my heart for joining and being part of this ... we still have a long way to go.

¿Qué les puedo decir? La verdad es que a penas puedo contener mi emoción en estos momentos.
2 años.. 2 años se dicen fácil pero la verdad es que han pasado dejando un millón de anécdotas y experiencias increíbles a su paso.

This is MY FASHION SONG, I heard it at my first exclusive event at the opening of the chanel Pop Up Store almost a year ago and every time I listen to it I get goose bumps oof excitenment!

Xoxo, Roberta W.P.F


The mechanics of the heart

"It's impossible" said pride supported by fear.
"It's risky" said conscious encouraged by experience.
"It's pointless" screamed negativity from behind.
"Give it a try" whispered the heart. -RWPF
Have you ever payed attention or thought about how your heart really works?
Not on an emotional level, but on a purely visceral?
Close your eyes.
Clear your mind.
Enjoy the silence.
No, not silence...There never is.
1..2..3...  1..2..3...
Yes, brutal and disturbingly exhilarating pounding...
Now concentrate... Sense it.
The more you think about it, the stronger it becomes. 
You feel its warm echo inside your eardrums, its evenly rythm wobbling up and down your chest, its harsh and vital power rushing through every nerve and tissue in your body.
Then suddenly you remember something...
Start breathing in, breathing out, making the sanguine fluid flow even through the most hidden recesses in your veins.
You savagely open your eyes with dilated pupils as memories unleash highly reactive brain chemicals that trigger a violent bloodstream suddenly palpable by the burning color of your face and clenched fists.
Make a pause. 
Close your eyes.
Control your mind.
Now you are pale, calmed and pale.
Funny how much dominion the mind has over every inch of every cell in our body, which blindly obeys the whims of a mysterious dictator who, at the same time, meets resistence when having to comply its own set of rules proving how trully rebellious and untameable we are in our most primal thoughtless state.
Start breathing deeper, slowly in and out as you've decided to dig profoundly in other recollections.
Then you blush, giggle, pound synchronously with another soul hidden in the caves of another ribcage.
1,1...2,2...3,3...  1,1...2,2...3,3...
Pounds fiercely expanding the blue cavities of your plasma pipes carrying away life.
This bloody movement is nothing and has nothing to do with what you actually think it does.
Your heart is not responsable for the love or hate you feel, but simply works as an engine of life that makes it all possible.
Curious how you can really get physically hurt for what happens within your mind.
You can feel empty as if some dark claws had just taken a piece out of you, and feel as if ambition had leeft your soul, because that little contractile muscle is the only one who can refuse to obey reason, logic and experience.
The heart is as much an enemy of the mind as the mind itself,  but even though they might face the same monster, they will never be on the same side of the war.
The heart is the only one who can betray and show the darkest most protected thoughts with a simple contraction.
Your face, body language, attitude, even the words you speak may say something... But your heart, your blood flow, will always tell the truth.
It is as powerful as it is delicate and depends just as much on you as you depend on it to survive.
That's how it works...
It's not only blood that flows through your veins...
There's life, memories, rebellion and feeling as well... All created by the connection between a red engine and a soul.
Xoxo, RWPF


Imperial Jewels

I've always been fascinated by history, and one of the most exciting topics I've read about has been about the Romanov's, the Russian Tsars.
These dinasty changed the course of history and helped to shape Russia into one of the world’s most
powerful nations today.
They loved exquisite jewelry and Peter Carl Fabergé, better know as the master goldsmith, was often commissioned to make amazing pieces for Tsar Alexander, his wife, mother and daughters.
His well know Easter eggs were born that way.
The production of his famous pieces were highly labour-intensive. Many hours
of hand-buffing were required to give the enamel a velvety finish. Enamel itself had to be heated to over 1000 degrees, process which had to be repeated a few times to obtain the each desired colour. To get a smooth embossement, he used a difficult technique called the champlevé method which consisted of carving the surface and filling the troughs with enamel. A total of about 50 eggs were produced, though only 43 survive the russian revolution.
I was about 8 when I first read about Fabergé and rapidly became obsessed with their beautiful creations. My favourite Easter egg is named “The Lillies of the Valley”, which I always said I wanted to see in person.
So, when my daddy took me to New York, the first thing he bought me was a bracelet with to-scale reproductions of the most significant Easter eggs, made by hand by the successors of Monsieur Fabergé. It is certainly one of the most prized possessions in my jewelry box.
Since then, the only thing I was missing was a necklace to complete my collection. I was overjoyed when I received one of these precious hand-made golden eggs from Fabergé Jewelry Box, an international distributor of Fabergé-inspired goods hand-crafted by Russian artisans in Moscow, which makes each pendant a one-of-a-kind.
Don't you love them?
As I have always said, I like when things have a history and meaning... Add the work of handcrafting and it is like couture: a piece of art and your unique lucky charm... Something to hold on to when things are right and wrong.
I'm in love with these beauties. Check them out on  www.fabergejewelrybox.com



Inside le purse..

Weather it's bags or shoes we girls just can't have enough, right?
They say that the higher the heel the closer to heaven... but what about bags? the fuller the bag, the more prepared you are?
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