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Sass & The City

After watching one too many Sex & The City episodes, I find myself feeling like a modern day Carrie Bradshaw — complete with the whole ballerina-tulle-skirt and too expensive shoes — when it comes to dealing with love, relationships and feeling the need to write a column about all that misery. Because let’s face it, sometimes I feel like a walking encyclopedia where many of my girl friends — and even guy friends — turn to if they’re looking for advice. They turn page after page, only to find that their encyclopedia-friend, just like them, has 99 problems and being frustrated with love is definitely one.

And that takes us to frustration with life in general, when you see yourself as a goddess in a gorgeous dress on sneakers — goddesses need to run around a lot — with dashing personality and a fierce outlook on life; only that fierce outlook is sometimes mistaken for ‘cold-hearted-bitch-syndrome’ by members of the opposite sex whose balls are clearly as big as their ego because whenever I open my mouth, I accidentally step on both of them.

Is it really like Samantha said in one gloriously hilarious episode of SATC that, ‘men don’t like women to be human’? And I couldn’t help but wonder, are men frustrated with women being their own goddesses? Is that why finding our knights in Tom Ford-armor, our supposed saviors, has become so hard lately?

We all get frustrated with life and all its treacherous traps, hell I haven’t been this frustrated with life lately since crawling out of the womb. And then we have to act like frustration is a

mere garden of flowers, rainbows and unicorns we women walk through every day on our way to work. God forbid we open our mouths to be straight-forward and sarcastic, or even human, about it once in a while. Even our dear beloved mothers warn us — I’m looking at you, mom — that “sass will bite us in the ass” and therefore being straight-forward and sarcastic will chase men away. Yet we want to be ourselves. You see the confusion women go through? And you see now, my dear girl friends, why you always fail at finding — and keeping, that always seems to be the tricky part — your prince sarcasm? 

Sometimes you just have to stop. And be your own goddess in Tom Ford instead. Making other people understand me has become as exhausting and time-consuming as contemplating whether or not I really do need that workout today — even more exhausting than the workout itself might I add. I’m like a mix of sarcastic Miranda and not-giving-a-fuck Samantha, and that should be a good enough explanation.
We look for that one perfect love and turn cynical — like yours truly once in a while, sorry girl friends — when he doesn’t want to be found or sometimes, let’s face it, runs away from you screaming. We forget that the greatest love, the greatest relationship is already in our lives — the love for our own inner sarcastic goddess. 

And next time you step onto another man’s balls, don’t apologize. Because you found yours a long time ago, only they hang a little higher up and they’re most definitely bigger than his. 

WEARING   ONLY coat — ZARA t-shirt — MOSCHINO bag — ZARA heels — SAINT GERMAIN pants 

Photography by Jamie Neirynck