the kommon thread is what ties the chic, Yves Saint Laurent briefcase-carrying, Starbucks addict business woman to the ghetto fabulous, 3-inch door knocker-wearing, tights in every color tweenager from the hood. It is the simple fact that every individual has and owns one common thing: style. It’s in the way you talk, from the y’alls to the yadddameans. It’s in the way you walk, with your sultry red Christian Louboutin soles hittin the pavement or the sand between your bare toes. Style emanates from the Lauryn Hill doo wop bangin in your ipod headphones the same way it stems from an old Billie Holiday vinyl. It is individualistic and universal all in the same.
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