I’ve never identified with the theme and characters of a production more than I did with HBO’s, How to Make It in America. Seasons 1 and 2 gave me this reassurance- a reassurance that the dreams of running a successful brand, getting turnt with Wilhelmina models, and saying fuck you to those trying to kill my truth, are all in reach. Through hard work, I could get that Soho loft, have that dope wardrobe filled with my high school athletic t-shirts & blue Norse Projects pieces, but above all that- have that quintessential girl holding me down through it all. Right now I feel stuck and I’m pissed that HBO didn’t give me a third season. I don’t know how the story ends. I can only hope that Crisp took off and that Ben and Cam went on to live a life filled with great style, good music, and dank cheeseburgers coupled with the crispiest of fries- unbothered by oversaturated bullshit.

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Every year that goes by, I look back on my younger self and realize that I knew nothing about anything, but in specific moments, I felt like I knew it all. I’ve noticed that sometimes you can be so wrapped up in where you would like to be, that you fail to acknowledged that where you are right now is pretty damn valid. Once I hit 20, something clicked in me. I knew that I was still an idiot, but of a lesser amount. I began to step back more, look at my current situation, and appreciated it for what it was and supposed to be at that point and time.

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Here I was dreaming about living the life depicted in How to Make It in America, when it was already my reality.

I have a friend who spends countless nights in a recording studio trying to make his next EP better than the last. I have friends who dance for hours on end, moving their bodies until their legs give in- and then dance some more. Friends writing screenplays and friends who direct them. Even a friend who runs around the city, chaperoning sought after fashion pieces from point A to point B, as if the items were the children of some diplomat. All these individuals wake up everyday, lace up their sneakers & point shoes, and hustle to reach their desires.

In the midsts of all that, there’s me. A young black man that spends his days scrolling through images on tumblr and style blogs, reading Ernest Baker think pieces, looking at currently unaffordable real-estate, and imaging what he’ll say to Kanye during their first meeting- all while filling his head with cool shit from different places and decades, in hopes of one day being the guy to go to for brand saving ideas and unique curation.

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After I buy this degree, I’ll be 21 years old and entering what are projected and expected to be the best years of my life. I’ll move back to Brooklyn and post up on my mom’s couch, just  until I save up enough bread to swing a spot of my own. I’ll wake up everyday pushing my agenda, trying to make my Crisp a tangible reality. Hopefully I’m aware that it’s happened when it does.   

Shoutout Playboi Carti

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