she's one ugly betty.

in my evelong quest to make a living off glitter i was tapped by ugly betty's costume designer to add bling to the trim of a SONIA RYKEL derby hat shipped in from london. 1400 specialty aurora borealis swarovski crystals adorn the shit out of the trim on this hat. take a peek:
done in an evening, and all hand applied because that's how we swagger. will keep you babies posted on whether or not she's ever on t.v. kisses!!

hood famous.

check out this week's shoutouts:
j.e.w.e.l.s from BUBBLEGUM PONY*S gave a-morir the sweetest shoutout this week! check out her post HERE!
and i met up with one of my favourite hustlers, Yoshi, for tea. she bought a hat and brogged about it on her FATLACE blog. see the post HERE!

big ups, ladies. big ups.

this is the new shit.

never not working means you're never not working. the end of 2008 came and went, and i was never not working.

so while i'm deep in lack of sleep, you babes can be deep in new shit for 2009. peep the new shit, and don't slack on the few week old releases at THE A-MORIR SHOP.

in good company:

a-morir next to vintage lanvin.
on patriciafield.com
pick up your pair there, or go to THE SHOP and customize your colours. xoxo.

love fades. tattoos are forever.

as i always say: go big or go home.
a-morir goes big. not my arm, circa end-of-year '05.

kiss me deadly

kiss me once...kiss me twice...
c'mon pretty baby... kiss me deadly...

a-morir: definition

In March of 2005 I went to visit my best friend in Madrid. While visiting the Museum of Contemporary Art (mainly to see Guernica which could have been an N*SYNC concert circa 2001 judging by my reaction). we stumbled upon an exhibit comprised of Argentinian artists, one of which was a triptych black and white video installation by Miguel Angel Rios. In lieu of creating my own summation, I'll let this press release from 2004 do it for me:

Through the documentation of this simple scenario, dynamics of competition, invasion and territorialism are signaled both visually and aurally. The lyrical movement of the tops is accompanied by their intense, syncopating sound. Confined within a white grid painted on asphalt, the masses speak to both space and subjectivity. The relative violence is complicated by the game’s high formality and beauty. A Morir (’til Death) negotiates both politics and poetics in abstracting narrative about urban sprawl, congestion, and war.

There you have it. I saw 100 spinning wooden tops fight for the death, and that shit resonated. Fucking wooden tops stirred my soul in unspeakable, albeit incredibly creatively expressive ways. Hopefully, in similar ways to how my handcrafted one-of-a-kind line moves you; 'till Death.

I promise, not all posts will end with such a ziggy-meets-mr.rogers wave of affection.

x my <3.

no excuses: get it done...

...was the mantra my 7th grade english teacher mr. shackel shoulted almost daily to his kids. at the time i was an overachieving awkward 13 year old who definitely did a book report on Truman Capote's "In Cold Blood" - and was told to read something more age appropriate.


::blinks:: how does this relate to a-morir?


aside from my need to brag about reading Capote at 13, it doesn't. except it does: i don't have any more excuses. so here's to the first of many blog posts about the development of a-morir by kerin.rose. i think i'm ready, and hope you are too.

holler at me: kerin.rose@a-morir.com