Yo Yo Ya'll Killed It Son!

I’ve fallen in a delayed love affair with America’s Best Dance Crew (no I don’t see the need to mention Randy Jackson’s name, lol). I truly truly appreciate it. I watch this show and it gives me Goosebumps sometimes sending me to a tear or two. There is a group from Alabama (Alabama?) clogging to Eminem and Nate Dog, and these cats from FAM U, YOOOOOOOOOOO are you serious, can we say shiny suit man, or menessss. But I’m afraid it doesn’t get any better than Fly Khicks (their spelling not mine); I studied dance for 8 years and I watch them and feel right at home, pure brilliance ladies! Oh how I love the “anything you can do I can do it better” style of Beat Freaks . Quest crew? I’m going to get me an Asian boyfriend.

I look at this show as a metaphorical embodiment of Life. Life is about taking what is given to you, maneuvering through it in your own personalized style, gaining success, and simply celebrating through it, the good and the bad. You adapt and at times conform, but through it all you discover new practices, gain experiences, new characteristics that enhance the truth of you, and then what; CELEBRATE, or in ABDC’s case, dance off the stage. The stage won’t belong to you for too long but if you want it, for that moment, take your shot at it. So TAKE that, ish.

(Ok, Ok, the passion is setting in, relax Joi, relax; ya’ll know I can get dramatic )

That’s what ABDC is about, that’s what JOI SAID is about, and that’s what our existence on this beautiful planet is truly about. The Passion, the Work, the Sportsmanship, the small margin for Error, the Belief that “making it” is your defined destiny. It’s the life that we live ya‘ll!

(Ya’ll like how I went from YOOOOOOOOOOO to ya’ll)

Now what I want to talk about is Miss Lil Mama. She's one of the judges on America's Best Dance Crew. Long before I’d started watching this show, I would hear about Lil Mama and how this girl is “SOOOOO annoying” or “SOOOOOO extra” or my favorite “SOOOO hood”. I’d never really listened to her music before but I do remember my crush on that Lip gloss song; one of those crushes that you silently embraced as opposed to actually acting on. So here is my thing, I don’t get it. I don’t understand the positions that people have had on her. I think she’s dope! Absolutely dope. I watch her and I listen to her and I truly appreciate her. The "Joi" in me doesn’t have it to hate and if you dig deep, you can suppress yours as well . I mean, she speaks what she considers the real (in a serious BK accent of course), she’s passionate about EVERYTHING that comes out of her mouth, and she contrasts the seriousness of her energy with bright pink nail polish, funky hair styles, and intermixed prints. I LOVE IT. I loved how she got with a sweetheart, striped, strapless dress, binging on sequence, layered with a teal tee. que? She's soooooo, how do you saaaaaaaay......... H&M meets Betsey Johnson gone oh so Debbie Harry on a date with Gwen Steffani eating crab cakes and plantains at Brooklyn Moon. Then the episode before, she had the nerve to put a bird in her hair. QUE? Again, the originality is genius and as I do, I celebrate the risk taker.

She’s her and no matter what she’s true to it. So many of us lack that characteristic and not only does she have it, she wears it with pure originality, which leaves me to believe she lives it, she is IT. I can dig it!

I just can’t hate girl! As a stylish sista, you can do it all. I appreciate the authenticity of your body language, your word choice. Girl I just feel like if you don’t mean it, you don’t say it and that’s REAL. I still fail to understand how you got that job but honey, I still fail to understand, sometimes, how I made it in Brooklyn! Or how I made it through the GMAT for that matter! Shouts out to ME!

P. S. Shouts out to Hammer!

oh oh oh ohhhhhhhhhhhh and shouts out to the Ringmasters!

PLS

Mr. Seger

A couple of nights ago I had the uninvited pleasure, of watching the 2009 NBA Allstar Game. Oddly enough my Valentine's Day celebration was greeted with the Dunk Contest the night before (trust I won't complain, I haven't had this treat in four years so Allstar, beer, cheese burgers and all, I enjoyed my Valentine's Day). Usually I wouldn't partake in either event unless I'm in the building with somewhat of a decent seat but entertaining as it was, I couldn't help it as my attention continued to divert to the paid in full style of some of these guys. I mean, I know good and well that white pre-Memorial Day wasn't Dewayne's doing. As tough as it is for many, I can muster up the ability to navigate my way through lusting over Chris Paul's tiny frame, or Brandon Roy's muted defense, or my favorite, the effortless upheaval of that yummy Point Guard for the Bulls , Derrick Rose, but I had to drop the anchor on a few of the ensembles I ran across this weekend.

First off, Beyonce. My girl has made the official cross over from southern sweet potato spice girl to off off broadway production of Rent city girl, sporting the over sized scarf with the slouchy beret (girl in Phoenix?). The cinematic genius Spike Lee, gave us a tour of Williamsburg with his strategic ensemble (its Spike, I know thought was put behind that look). Jimmy Jam playing solo, kept it traditional while MRS. Eva Longoria Parker left her personalized Spurs Jersey at home. The sidelines lacked excitement this year but the game was pretty dope. Bron Bron and his axel lay up, Shaq Fu part deux break dances, and Nate Robinson's youuuuuuuuuuuuuu, (super man or Lex Luther, marketing at its finest?)

The show goes on and I'm getting bored. Yeah Yeah Yeah (my question, who's single)

The West wins, blah blah blah, but allow me to reintroduce style defined and defied at it's finest. Just when I chop being stylishly fly to being a person of color sitting in the audience of the BET Awards, I'd like to bring to you Mr. Craig Seger. I've never seen anything like him! The man is the truth, Webster's definition of a true risk taker. Mr. Seger is amazing! This night, the man wore a pastel pink blazer paired with brick velvet slacks, a magenta striped oxford, and (just when you saw a color story) a powder blue necktie. Known for his sequin blazers, his poly blend suiting, and his risk taking screams of plaid, polka dots, and checkered prints, Mr. Seger gets it so wrong that he gets it right. I love him for it. It was hilarious as I watched him interview; he appears to be the whitest white man there is until BAM, SHOCK, KABLOW, you are slapped upside the head with what you stumble upon below his neck line. Now the average viewer would consider his look to be nothing more than a clown suit; me, I just refuse to criticize with laughter. I applaud his ode to St. Valentine and his special collaboration of Velvets and wovens, and If Bron Bron can sport his Steve Urkel meets Prep School cardigans (another entry), Mr. Seger can match a comb over with a magenta pocket square. I can appreciate the thought behind the occasion. Why let the players get all the shine. It was Mr. Seger, who's "wear what I feel appeal" gangked the show. For one quick second, I was thoroughly entertained. Hell, I bought it and would pay for a FREE refill.

PLS

A Struggle in Style

For those of you who know and especially for those who may not, I was born and raised in Little Rock, AR. I spent my life growing up in this city appreciating southern hospitality, meat, Al Green, and The Little Rock Nine. (I've been dying to write about this). My feelings get hurt, when I travel the country and I’m pointed out as “not being from here”; with pride and confidence I say, “I’m from Little Rock.” And right there drops that dreadful reply, “Gang bangin in Little Rock”. Damn, there it is again. I get so angry, I get so hurt. Out of all the history that my home state has, the only quality of knowledge that people seem to have is the convenient ignorance of that HBO special. To this very day I refuse to watch it. So this is what I’m going to do for you. And at the end of this, don’t ever say I never gave you anything.

During a hateful yet grateful period in history, schools across the country were segregated, Little Rock Central High School was no different. In 1957, the Supreme Court ruled that segregation, the legal separation of blacks and whites in public facilities, was illegal. “The Little Rock Nine,” would be the first African Americans to attend the all white Little Rock Central High. Through adversity, an immeasurable amount of struggle, and the practicality of nonviolence (something I’m sure I wouldn’t be able to survive), the Little Rock Nine, better known to their friends and families at that time as 15 and 16 year old children (yes imagine what you were doing when you were 15 and 16) walked the halls of some of the south’s most mean spirited people just to gain the best level of education and open doors for other blacks to get the best level of education. Fricken education. What was a fight and privilege has turned into an option to oppose. But I don’t want to get into my emotional disgust towards that period, Govenor Faubus, and today’s sad excuse for 'appreciation towards education'. I want to talk about the grace that is understandably overlooked; under the circumstances of course. I want to talk about the Nine and how stylish they were being pushed down stairs, spat on, and abused. Or how well put together Elizabeth was as she awaited answers to where the rest of the group were. Lets point out how handsome the fellas were as they carried puzzled looks on why they should go against their desires of cracking the skulls of the ignorance.

Hell I just need a minute to take my mind off the disgusting actions of the citizens of Arkansas during that period.

The Nine were polished. Day after day they stepped into the undeserving camera flashes with consistent impeccability. Each day appeared carefully planned yet one can only imagine the true thoughts and emotions that empowered their minds and at times wreaked havoc on the young heroes. I’m sure after the first week, how pressed one’s pants were took a temporary backseat. This supports the raw and effortless practice, yet daily attainment. I believe their expression of style extends deeper. It seemed as if they knew this documentation in history would lead to recognition such as mine. Looking well put together would somehow be acknowledged by someone. Maybe it was the habit, a practice, a simple celebration of the day. Looking Good!

Materialist trappings were simply not an option, staying afloat in a sea of struggle was the priority. Pressed slacks, cardigans, kitten heels, laced socks, starched white collars, skinny neckties, belted swing skirts coupled with crinoline, flawless pin curls, fresh hair cuts, books held firm in hands; embodying a non-violent, modest strength. Weakness nonexistent. Carlotta’s athletic shoulders graced by geometric prints, Minnijean’s boat necks and bolero jackets (her sophistication and sass stretched endless), and my admiration meets ultimate with Elizabeth’s hidden eyes. I love her. "no movement, no fear, tweaks a blood vessel, matched a single tear" (a line from a poem I wrote about her eight years ago; Joithestylist can get deep ya'll). Gloria poised in floral, Thelma tailored in a handsome blazer, and Melba’s femininity, shown with nothing more then the innocence of her collar bone exposed. And the fellas. Handsome as ALLLL get out! Terrance’s tall frame housing the appeal of the 5th member of the Rat Pack, Jefferson walked quietly in plaid, and Central High’s first African American Graduate, Ernest Green, commanding the last laugh. You see, to the naked eye, Earnest appeared to be wearing an all black graduation gown similar to his peers, but to hopeful proud eye, he wore a cashmere cape, laced in 14kt gold, lined in silk. (ok maybe it was just a gown).

The style of many Blacks during the late 1950’s represented immense poise, stylish decorum, and self righteous pride. Pride, a defense mechanism like none other. Blacks often hand-made garments or altered hand-me-downs, simply working with what was available to them. Strength, accented by fresh threads for their first days of school to their 90th day of Church. Blacks were colorful, and print worthy. As Blacks are today, risk is everything and stepping out on personal style for the world to see is a risk blacks have always been willing and ready to take.

The 50’s were chic. The 50’s were conservative and mannerable. The believes were built on truth and passion and everything in life had a lasting purpose. Style was real and couldn’t be copied. I’ve seen the 50’s resurrected on the runways many times but never with the organic candor of the 50's. Fashions that were sanctioned specifically for an era of making history and the Nine mastered it. These young children wanted to look good and wanted their confidence well supported with new looks and the hope of a fresh start.

Struggling in Style they made us believe in the fight.

Thank you. My tolerance and believe in all things is yours.

PLS