Dancing to the beat of my own hip hop

Fashionistas should come with a disclaimer that reads, "Don't judge me based on my behavior. I'm not that crazy." \nIn my experiences I have found the fashion culture breeds an inner "wild child." I don't know if it is the beautiful clothes, the pulse of the novelty or the music, but it can be shocking to those newly exposed to the life. \nFashion people love to get dressed up and go party. My friend Dena Downham loves to get dressed in 1950s-style party dresses or skinny jeans and dance to punk all night. My friend Mallory Zalkin is the social butterfly and has done some of the most outrageous stuff imaginable; and I am the one that doesn't have the sense God gave a goat, but I am low-key about it. Well, sometimes. \nRecently I started seeing this guy who is the more subdued, responsible type. Our first night together, I was dressed in a colorful skirt, sparkling sandals and green shirt when he told me he thought I was a nerd. I chuckled to myself and thought, "You don't know nuthin' 'bout this." \nSoon afterward, he got the shock of his life when he found out what was in my past. Needless to say, we have never had that conversation again. Now when we talk about my past, he asks, "Is that when you got wild?" and I answer with a smile, "I have always been wild."\nThe point is, fashionistas are a breed of their own. Some call us crazy, but I call us spirited. We love to live life, eat cheesecake and have a martini, all while looking fabulous in colorful dresses. When someone is that visual, there seems to be a distinct personality with the package. Model Jasilyn Morgan calls it a rock star mentality. \n"When you get all dressed up to go out, you want to have fun," she said. \nIt is true. I love getting dressed up in black pants, a designer sweater and door-knocker earrings and getting crunk. One weekend, I think I scared my companions, who didn't think I could dance in heels all night. They swore my feet would be sore. By the time I got done droppin' it like it was hot, smackin' my own ass, screaming, "Ya'll ain't ready!" (all while wearing one Baby Phat earring because I lost the other one while partying) they had changed their minds. I didn't need anyone to dance with me either; I was the star of my own video and everyone else were just an extra. While everyone at Sports was grindin' to "Golddigger," I was "Makin' em Lose Sleep" like Missy Elliot and "Asking for a G Clap" like Jim Jones. I am notorious for dancing to the beat of my own drum -- or should I say fashionistas are notorious for dancing to the beats of their own drums. On top of that, we don't care what other people think. \nWhen we go out with our boyfriends, they are more like chaperones than dates. When we get to drinking and happiness fills the air, we become the ultimate party favor. We love everybody and will shamelessly dance to Madonna in designer heels because the song was written for us. We can't help it if we have spirit and a lot of it. \nWhich brings me to my point. Lately, after the scene at Sports, I realized not many people can handle me and my fashion-ation with life. I tend to scare men and most people away. When the guy I am seeing called me a nerd, I realized like most fashionistas, I have a gift for inauthenticity. We can be anyone at any time. It is when people get to know us they find out we have more clothes than we know what to do with, can drink all night and set the standards for partying. It is a way of life for many of us, because we love to live like rock stars. So I hope I don't scare this one away with my spirited behavior, because if you can hang with a fashionista, we have a knack for making your wildest dreams come true.