Here’s the tea.

I’ve always had this love affair with fashion, but the moment that pushed me to start my own handbag line? Well, let’s just say it was your classic case of dealing with someone's less-than-stellar offspring.
After the chaos of a divorce, I found myself in a toxic rollercoaster of a relationship—a real tearjerker of a situation. It was quite a rough patch. A heart-wrenching and soul-crushing experience and I felt like my confidence took a hike. 

Confidence? I've always had more of it than Jojo Siwa has bows, but there I was, feeling like my whole identity was wrapped up in the events that had unfolded. But after heaps of self-reflection and healing, I started catching glimpses of my old, outrageous self. It was on one of those "feeling myself" days that I had the pleasure of encountering someone’s dusty son trying to knock my crown askew. I must've had some serious liquid courage in that martini,  and let the liquor talk because at that moment, I channeled my inner Eminem and flipped fear the double bird at his feeble blue bubble Novella attempts to bring me down to his minimum wage level.

In what can only be described as a “50 Cent level” of pettiness, I flipped the script so hard #nocap I earned my invite to the cookout. I gave ol’ stanky leg Mr. Fear the side eye and tossed my martini in his face, sitting there on a Shein spray painted knock off the throne of lies,and declared “Oh yeah? F*$k YOU. Watch me make millions." And just like that, my muse was born—say hello to "Cunty-Couture." 

I took his “high-value man”, very demure moment, put his text message on a purse, and made a website. I turned it into a fierce fashion statement, I took all that shame and channeled it into something that turns me on my then men.

MOO-LAH. Meet my new BF, honey! MR. BEN FRANKLIN

Shit happens. Soooo What???? I own it. I had sooo many ugly doors closed in my face. That’s fine. Life gave me lemons. Now watch me buy some sugar, hire a sales team and I’m coming back to BUY the MOTHER FUCKING BUILDINGGGGG.