The needles are prepared for war

Jane Birkin

London baby.


































Muse of mothers.

Woman of many traits

 Serge Gainsborg sex kitten

Chick woke up on the metro without panties.

Mad men running the streets holding on to their dear lives. 

Prostituting themselves to the monsters of money. 

What is written in our school books is no longer true. 

What I write in doses seems to be true. 

Although occasional mind inhibitors may have a quarrel with the ideas.

A guardian from the courtyards of heaven recites them to me in a colorful and sometimes dark point of the spectrum.

What I know to be true is the feeling, the wrath, the movement of my pen amongst it's opponent.

Society has become a horror and must be advised.

S/S 2012 Press Release "Slum Goddess"

Lauren Ann Wolfe

L.A.W.

(Photograph by. Greta Muna)

Miami’s own fashion specialist, contributor, and designer, Lauren Ann Wolfe, is both a marvel and delight to those who meet her for the first time. Her own style is at its core minimalist, but her eccentricity would never allow it to remain bare-boned. She marries the everyday-wear with funk, flash, and fine art. Ms. Wolfe’s previous contributions to Miami’s fashion world include styling for Gil Bitton’s Art Basel Exhibit, hair and makeup for Allyson Parker’s Hanger Gallery, and various backstage production and assistance for designers David Jon Acosta-Gold Saturn and Bobby Ray-Khasa Marina.

On March 3, L.A.W. brings to Grand Central her own collection entitled, “Slum Goddess”.  In this collection she shares with us her honest will to do what feels right. Following no fashion criteria but her own, she battles to keep her deep, heavy, mind busy producing twisted designs and visions through leathers, metals and mesh. Worn by deathly muses under a red and white moon-lit catwalk, L.A.W. releases her masterpiece. Co-produced by Wasabi Fashion Kult, and orchestrated by music knight, LLiam Dominic.

Lauren Ann Wolfe, an avid traveler and prolific thinker, derived her main inspirations during her 3 month stay in New York City last summer, “where no one is allowed the peace of an idle mind”(L.A.W.). Her restlessness and committed compulsion to create birthed the first sketches of a collection she describes as, “The naked truth worn proudly” --with the help of her fashion confidant and seamstress, Pandora.

She believes it is a time of liberation and represents our constrictive pasts through the use of haunting masks and spikes, while also presenting the rescued inner self as bare, real and free. 

She collaborates with Ms. Virginia Valere to accessorize models, which include, but are not limited to our own divine nightwalkers: Nicole Kirigin, Kira Alvarado, Leo and Chantel Hover. She hopes to expose a new dawn to her audiences, where the dark and twisted are not afraid to “wear her pieces while howling at the moon” “for they have awoke from their shallow graves and want to roam free into the night”(L.A.W.).

-Written by Edith Mora , Pamela Wasabi, Lauren Ann Wolfe.

                                                 

Sneak peek

Exhibit 1

Zipped Lip Mask

L.A.W. photo shoot for Virginia Valere/ Photograph editing By. Andre Cabrera

A Thousand Thanks:

Virginia Valere

Greta Muna

Nicole Kirigin

Chantel Hover

Andre Cabrera

Carlos M

At my discretion.

Versace 

G                Girl or boy?

Andrej Pejic

Me am I we Androgyny

        Christian Louboutin- I want paws!

L.A.W. - Slum goddess S/S/2012

Zipped Lip

                         T.L POSTER CHILD

Intimate Journals L.A.W.

Yet another full moon arises from day.
Usual trumpet sounds coming from the clouds tonight.
Awfully peculiar.
Words from wings,
the goddess she sings.
The dilatoriness of the evening grew wicked with winters eve.
Nothing like some crumpets and some berries.
Often while indulging I can barely speak.
The flavor I savor.
How it quivers in me so deep.
It is Daughter Diana who grants me with lyrical speech.
When her house swallows my bronze plated bones, I fly in a synchronized swarm of birds.
Beyond this life into another world, I can float and sleep smoothly.
My life on my own.

Early in the dawn of morning

It's been awhile since I knew you.
An idea of your memory.
With a truth it is held.
I'll write then I'll dream,
of us with esteem,
Awoken to this haunting;
my ears set to steam.
A trumpet from dear Jesus,
wakes my head oh reckon scum.
A migraine to pass attention.
Better being stuck in the rain.
Words i read backword,
to me sound insane.

January V. Sometime late in the early morning

Indeed it might be the forever questions which are the fore fronts of what keep my mind occupied.
A philosophy angled to a stance In which an answer can be assumed.
Exuberant and dandy my mind can train a thought.
But decadent and precise,
my choice runs a trot.
Passion of a fear
for unworthy feelings hither near,
just a healing only becoming thatof a dead dreary queer.
Forsaken at his haven,
delivered like glass oh so clear.
L.A.W.

January 4. 2012

Oh frozen fingers underneath these skies
point me toward the next shot
a shooting star to my eyes