Hearts another beat a second
A+ made the grade rare meat
Why is everything told to
us in a heartbeat
This is getting way too sweet
"Lips took Beeswax" bittersweet

Someone got stung B-
Strong sound muffler
Joyride Owl Hoot clever
Sweet and sourpuss
honey babe

Her mustard lips of custard
Hot temperature rising
The spicy lady opening
up new horizon gate

Too many sad rides
empty plates last joyride
Gas empty blame the county
Why did we call this joyride
without knowing
your fate

The others are more noticed
Fashionably they came late
Dine and the Wine joyride
romanced money upfront
advanced

Lips like jewels left their stale
You were the chosen one taken
for a ride from
a crooked male

Like bushel big loot basket
Rock the Kasbah rocket
Golden joyride ticket the
pickpocket
Getting away with ******
****** lips in the gasket

The joyride so beat looked
disheveled new love
unraveled
So messy but **** neat
looking, Lexus,
She looks mighty fine like
Venus, I beg you to zoom

And the love after all the treats
Sherlocked in his room
The devil made me do it
All flushed and deep red
Hearing his joyride of beats
What was really going
through her head
Hard rock ambient
painter deviant

The holiday like racing hot rod
Harvest Halloween of a joyride
Two peas in dark maze pod
Igniting a hot fire
Her lips need to decide
Who was underneath the
fumes of his fire

The coffee taste accelerating
Do we feel the pulsing beat
What a high anxiety peak
High intense flavor
You waiting for his joyride
Christmas and Hannukah
Tree to decide that's easier
But wait for true love above all
the gifts to deliver
Like bedrock meeting
Monster ride plant-eating Bug
More slugs my chinch
Inchworm of books at Joyride
College Dorm horn alarm
Manifestation enjoying
her joyride
What a conniver
Greece with my niece
vacation
Basil New rival tea
Pomegranate Cherry-bomb
Blonde Bombshell
Culture novelty joyride
Ring my servant bell
Met their sanity tomb

Her hand's dainty they shine
and sparkle
Her lips know how to jingle
Arace for hearts of stories
and memories
Always the death hand takes
a ride to the winding road of
the cemeteries
Just stay for the moment
think about the
Joyride forth of July
Our firecrackers went off at
the same time
Brie cheese favorite time
English tea and crackers
Like two lips sublime read
her diaries in his designer dockers

Going to the end of the earth lips
light up New York City galleries

Needing the fresh corner
Sunset taking lowrider Boulevard
Hollywood Oh! No world
Wildly satanic or the carefree type
Her joy smile he's sold on skype
Benevolent triad remembering
The mad magazine
MLM Maserati longevity Master
Of the joyride gun blaster
"Lips build like a Pyramid"
Becoming irresistible
Not to humble

Lips race Joyride to gamble
Nothing weakens to crumble
Baking a crumb cake its
doable stays together but
things unnamed not like
a marriage

We get blamed joyride
got damaged
We become gullible
What becomes of the broken heart
someone isn't reliable
Lips are not responsible
Leadership has you cornered  
To stumble upon her lips
Rendered steamboat surrender
How he tumbles
Mr. Grey Poupon Mustard seed
He plants her like his
only joyride
In need
We are all Jupiter the moon
joy to the world
All the boys and girls being
taken for joyrides

The Beach boy's video games
Spy lips whose to blame
Phillip screwdriver
But they take a ride
All you could pick a hot buffet
feasting she is still wearing
hot lipstick
Men have their choice of
they're next
Joyride Bride about the money
Wall-Street cars of hobbies
investing
Yeah right?

I have known this much talked about search for true love for over 10 years and I am aged 22 years now. There was this unforgiving loneliness till I was 17 years of age given that I am the only child of my parents who lives with them in a lonely campus of a research institute away from the small city.

A tumultuous relationship filled with resentment to the brim about my parents keeping me their only 'issue' was brought to the hilt and I was weary of being their arguably most beloved 'machine' who was supposed to live sticking to the 'guidelines' laid by them as the ideal only son.

We aren't from a landlord's family and have limited resources, so I was supposed to suffice in my parents' love and affection, studying at a fairly consistent dedication to bring forth the results worthwhile landing me a good job.

But who has been able to control a Romeo-in-the-making?

Answer: Nobody!

But my Juliet wasn't yet on the horizon till age 17, when I mistakenly took my first girlfriend who was my classmate till class 7, to be my last love. Period. Then for the first time I was introduced to the idea of 'love' by this sweet girl whom I dub "G3" over 11 months elder to me. I had proposed her, but it was not a pre-emptive proposal.

Our period of courtship had started over Orkut which was the most popular social website at that time. It was just friendship initially until I had unsuccessfully proposed two bimbets other than my first girlfriend. One of those two unsuccessful attempts was with her best-friend-once-upon-a-time.

I had told her about them both, she had even tried apparently helping me propose her best friend when I had told her that I had even written a song for my childhood crush over the years I had been away from my old school.

Her first reaction was, "I would die for having such a boyfriend! Wish it was I for whom the song was composed."

Then when I proposed my childhood crush, G1, I couldn't even mention about the song and she rejected my proposal. Period. I was distraught, I was broken & I was amazed at how easily she could've undermined my liking for her from the past 7 years.

To take my attention off the disappointment posed by my first rejection. I proposed a different girl, G2, non-seriously, knowing that another rejection was lurking behind the curtains of time.

Rejection 2 successfully diverted my mind away from the mess created. Anyways, I did have a girlfriend for myself. After all, people love guys who sing melodiously and can play guitar apart from having decent appearance, and believe me- I used to look this chocolatey young guy until I was 19 years of age.

The girl who later went on to have the place vacated by my first crush was her same best-friend-once-upon-a-time 'G3'. She went on varied lengths in narrating her own break-up story with the guy she was with. I got a second-hand  piece as my first girlfriend. It was no issues, at least till she was bickering about how he had broken her 'heart-of-a-self-proclaimed-princess' and we started having arguments and serious tiffs over what had been happening in her life.

We broke-up. I had enough of the hardships brought by myself upon her. She had taken to crying harshly over phone. I resented myself. I failed to identify that it was not true love indeed but only a mirage of the idea.

I next concentrated in studies and this time I prevailed over the hurdles offered by examinations and a second girlfriend, 'G4', who refused to openly accept she was going about with me was attracted to me. She'd go see the Taj Mahal at Agra and the Hawa Mahal at Jaipur with me apart from spending the night in the same hotel room but would still reckon me with my pending reappear supplementary exams and wouldn't openly accept a failure as her man. I was frustrated by her autocratic behaviour and opted for a different girl, 'G5'.

G5 was the prettiest of my first 3 GF's as far as looks were considered. We romanced around Delhi's historical places and malls; holding hands around cinemas and Old Fort walls in New Delhi. But still I was as ****** as I was when I was born.

May 7, 2010 was a scorching hot day with the sun ablaze overhead and me going on the busiest highway of India. I was going back to my home and met with a serious road accident en route that kicked me out of my senses into a frozen comatose state.

I somehow survived the life-threatening coma and was moving around in 52 long weeks, limping heavily all thanks to my parents and the kind physiotherapist. Thanks to a poor memory, I initially performed extremely below average at college.

Then I was all prepared to attack at all future examinations and nothing could stop me. I breezed past another girl 'G6', this was my last failure. She was confused between me and a different guy. Neither me nor any other guy with a high self-prestige would entertain the idea of being weighed as an option. I again moved on.

Then comes the continuing story of my true love. True love is the one that lasts forever successfully. She is incidentally my 7th chance upon the love pathway and last. I am sure this is her- my soul-mate.

She is my gateway to the 7th heaven, I find her presence in every aspect of my life. She is 6 years and 9 months younger to me and her descent in my life has been the best thing in my life. I celebrate and rejoice each day in her presence. Our tastes are so similar that we feel merely our X- & Y-chromosomes are different.

We patiently wait for time to last till the day till we perish after blessing our grandchildren. We live 250 kilometres away from each other and have only known each other through voices and photos. We are yet to meet. Till then I wait for the day my master degree gets over and she gets into a medical college.

Now I will end this post by saying that there's no end of love and no beginning of it - you just have to wait, identify and hold on to your truest love.

Breeze bellows,
leaves echo in
quivering psithurism,
dithering like
unbroken smoke,
this approaching omen goads.

Dozing crows
slumbering in rows,
droves of locusts'
silenced drone,
almost comatose in repose;
nighttime overtones
choir of toads'
raspy croaks
answered by alto
of crickets' orchestral strokes.

Gust encroaches;
robed boughs
cloven open,
bring into
scope and focus
me juxtaposed,
suspended apropos.

Although motionless
and petrified in stone,
provoked by zephyr
coaxing to and fro;
swaying pendulous
and no longer frozen,
locus gently thrown.

Death rattle moan
evoked from throat,
reflex can't say no
to rigor rigidly posed,
final sigh in silence,
awoken vocal,
expelled and disposed.

Smote by
morose emotion,
gun loaded then exploded
by neurosis,
now bloated
necrosis decomposes
into gross ochre.

This trophy
and this ode
both an opus to
my inability to cope;
romanced i proposed,
eloped and betrothed to
my own
inappropriate composure.

Pocket full of posies
plucked when luck bestowed
and tears in a cup, a toast;
crying copiously,
tempest runneth overflowed,
eyes swollen and soaked.

Dipped my toes
in the coast
of this ocean's
amorphous folds,
gripped by undertow
holding control of my soul;
swiftly shipwrecked in
shallow shoal,
an old atoll.

On sandy floor,
water burrows roads;
digging, carving, roams
through unmarrowed
silica and sandstone
eroding into a cove.

A host for
opal geode trove,
enclosing a
technicolor rose,
from the depths
a glowing mosaic shone

Unopened lotus floats
on foam
of lapping waves,
a boat;
prone to no
grandiose notion
or motive,
adrift as wind stokes.

I suppose
this only shows
the total corrosion
into which I dove,
the only foes to oppose
are those of burdens, so
only weightless can I atone-
I must let go.

Standing underneath a Billion Stars,
I looked down at the Roaring Sea.
Something jumped out of the Water,
I wondered What it could Be.
I leaned Myself a bit further
and tried to figure things Out.
A Mermaid caught My Eyes
and I had no time to Shout.
I thought I ought to save Her,
from the 'Sharks' there out at Sea.
Then I changed My Mind,
as Her Beauty enchanted Me.
I waved out, My Hands to Her
and that brought, out Her Smile.
She said to Me, "Let's go Diving,
so U can Romance Me for a While".
With a Splash, I was in the Water.
Holding on, to My new found Love.
She was a Soft as Cotton Candy
and murmured like a Snow White Dove.
At times I've Romanced in Sunshine,
At times I Held Hands in the Bitter Cold.
Today I was at Nature's end Swimming,
With a Mermaid and Her Heart of Gold.

You had too many choices.
To chose from.
No one of thee bunch knew.
Who was the lucky one?

All competed to get the chance.
That they be the one that you romanced.
And the winner is-yet to be determine.

Through rumors and innuendo.
We still isn't clear on who the winner is.
Some say it him.
Some say it's me.
But the final decision's is with you.

About exactly the man that you choose.
And the winner is.
The man that you give your heart too.

I know you think about me on the way home
I know you think I want to be alone
I'm accustomed to calling on the phone
I'm accustomed to making it on my own
But I've dreamt of places you've roamed
I see the same passionate soul
You've romanced me in your loving tone
Your fiery moan, your satisfying groan,
And with it a price, mortality a loan
So my eyes I have sewn,
To my porcelain skin and my doll-like bones,
My true light has shone-
China Doll, a title for the throne.
I can be yours if only you would know, Just know if you break me you can never let me go.

You were the greatest neuronal reorganization to ever happen,
of course I don't know who I am anymore.

What was plastic seems changed to stone in a gargoyle brain and beneath a microscope the shimmering glia spell out your name over and over in little green lights, fossilizing the neurons that say:

Him.

The earth has an edge. Nobody wants to fall off.

So call me Homer, because the gods themselves could not convince me my situation's a sphere there's far too much fear in this flattened plane that understands only primitive desires and just wants you near.

Everyone knows the romanced brain could be mistaken for a ******* addict's.

But perhaps if you look more closely into my eyes you will see my irises have turned stormy, that cyclones of energy are becoming patterns that scribble and scribble arcane suggestions for a new cartography. A new story. A new being.

Supplies needed:
One strong pencil.
Enough oxytocin to unlearn an addiction.

Enough optimism to overcome an affliction, my diction is code for the way you kissed me and it underlines every sentence like the way a voice rises when asking a question.

I have so many questions.

And even though the notion of who I will be when I am not you terrifies me, like Cathy and Heathcliff I will not be doomed to roam the moors, already I know there's endlessly more, and with or without you the best is yet to come. Just as they say. No, I don't know what's in store. But I think that's okay.

Turn golden, Grey Matter, light up 'til you burn.

Reboot.
Restart.
Rewire.

*Relearn.

I woke up on a ship upon the sea ,
Thinking I had finally found my sailor.
You had maps drawn with lines and X's marking spots of interest,
And I thought I was your favorite treasure.
Romanced me from land to sea, but turns out you are just another pirate looting girls hearts for pleasure.
Capsized, we've been hit, and you abandon ship,
And I abandon my anxious breath.
Drowning in emotions I become swallowed in the waves of tears.

Romanced by beautiful words
that carry me to another time,
I let myself be dressed in a flowing gown,
stitched together with the delicate
memories and intentions of the
master craftsman.
He makes it possible to live in a
brilliant haze of nouns, verbs and
extravagant adjectives.
My mind is full of wonder
and my heart is full of longing
as the dress is stripped off and
folded away.
I'm ****** into my street clothes,
into my daily drudge,
but I know my escape will be made again,
thanks to Mr.Fitzgerald.

You didn't mean it,
You didn't mean the pain,
The agony caused by your actions.

You didn't mean it,
You didn't mean to hurt her.

You bullied and dehumanized,
Turned her...
Turned her into you,

A MONSTER!

She wept and cried,
You tortured and cursed.

You didn't mean it,
You didn't mean to hurt him.

You seduced and flirted,
Turned him into a lovesick fool.

He chased and romanced,
You left him heartbroken.

In the end,
Was anything true?

Were the sweet words,
Uttered by you lips,
True or false?

Tell me I got it wrong,
You did not mean to hurt,
You didn't mean to abuse,
You didn't mean to curse.

Tell me I got it wrong.

TELL ME, IT'S NOT TRUE!

I departed Tripoli early on the Thursday
the chauffeur meeting me at Heathrow
Deciding a long weekend was owed
I started to arrange a little romance
pondered on the detail and the where

We sped on into the Cotswold's
thoughts of gardened desert oasis said here

A surprise, hidden across fields in sheltering copse
the entrancing beauty of floating water lilies
of the temple for two on it's spreading pond
within the splendid wonder of a secret garden
locked in by romantic beech leafed escarpments
of Waterly Bottom with a nearby New Inn

But beaten by discerning honeymooners
the hamper and a beach would have to suffice

Winding the slow road took us South
stopping to picnic within Corfe Castle
later beached curves splashed in the sea
rock pools were explored under high cliffs
dinner for two enjoyed at the Grand Hotel
the beautiful view off to France or Swanage

Finally a large curious and dated room
and soft delights sweetened by Sahara oasis

I woke ice cold next to her wrapped warmth
The unexpected unfamiliar presence sat
staring coldly from within it's armchair
lit and wrapped in aged coloured silks
the cob webbed spectre wore a skull cap
it's eyed dry head followed my sitting up
watched as I bit into the flesh of my arm
salty blood informing me of a new reality
poking her side so droplets stained sheets
languorously she commented "Again?"  
my mandarin robed Chinese departed
silently melting in untouchable darkness

Leaving teeth-a-chatter and a new spirituality
with a small hot hand moving touching

I reported on Sahara underground rivers
green gardened oasis and the part I had played
Congratulated, a secondment was mooted
to ensure payment of some outstanding loans
arrangements had already been put in hand
for me to take over some three businesses
based in Indonesia but firstly in Sumatra
later taking owner's responsibilities in Jakarta
They promised a principal Asian role to follow

I knew then their discussions already had result
in the visit of one parties honoured ancestor

Two years on in Indonesia and repayment made
Having helped make happen an increase in production
of archipelagos basic foods paddy and highland corn
through my work with the co-operative movement
My position as Senior Lloyd's Shipping Inspector
and the Lloyd's Shipping Agency given back
The diesel electric maintenance crew working
properly and for it's owners till my departure
I planned the move to Singapore and new challenge
then travel in Asia teamed with my romanced lady

Chopstick adept meetings and the gift of spirituality
had seen me never interfere with Chinese business

I am nothing, nothing but oblivion,
a vast emptiness within a breathing host.
If you were to rip me open,
cut me down the middle,
crank apart my ribs,
there would only be a numb void.
Maybe the world would be inhaled
into my stomach,
for me to regurgitate,
stripped of all it's essential beauty.
No more stars, I will keep them for myself,
let the moon shine it's dull light
in the spotlight, with no one to share it's empty
stage.
Let the sky be dumbfounded with loss
and void of illumination,
and maybe with star-filled guts
I will shine again.
Everything I am,
everything i touch,
is robbed of love and joy,
for I am nothing but an afterthought
left by the shadow of death.
I'm surprised I can be seen at all,
for I am transparent to myself.
My dreams and goals seem a whisper
from the past,
warm and inviting,
their words tickling my ears
with skeletal promises,
concrete at the touch, but
with no deeper substance.
Filthy liar, tease.
I reach and grasp and tear my limbs,
praying to feel even the vague
memory of hope upon my fingertips.
I long for escape,
escape from an insomniacs dream,
the lines of reality and ficiton blurred into one,
for only nightmares and goblins await me
in my bed of anvil pillows and maggot ridden matresses.
Escape,
for even the stroke of my pencil,
once so lively as it romanced me into a verse,
paints a tragedy.


But mostly,I want to fly into the night sky and explode,
burdening the world with all the negativity I've gathered over the years.
And release all the beauty and potential I've stolen and hidden away.
With the anarchy that is my psyche, I will restore balance.
I am everything.

Through the masks and obscured within the lies, lays the truth unsaid in which all despise
Too much had been appraised, and much was fitfully un-right, so vastly dark within folded light
He was King, and she forever his Queen, still they hold each others hands, a thrilling vice in which they teamed
Their faces lit with withering sight, flightless eyes instead of cocky fulfilled and streaming plight
They tangoed to flooded phantom operas and darkly lit scenes, set with bloodset roses and heartfelt keys
Bowing inside the night they longfully romanced, ballerined on fruitless olden toes that would soon become cramped
Whispering together, they flee against the mournless sounds, that crept and prowled outside the bounds'
Deciding a long time ago to dance their lives away, to live within the fleeting joy and feel their heartbeats sway

He’s trick, like enrapturing
Wherein lies the paradox of his pantheism parapet’s paragon
Extraversion embezzlements and euthanasia extortions
Embark embargo extraditions
Diction’s enunciation echoes of opaque opulence
Its redolence a savory waft
The evolution of psychic clarity’s id conclusions
Bizarre dichotomous augur the singer’s aural austerity
Gypsy Queen, his guitar’s moniker, romanced aimed intention
Elaborate elliptical empathy endeavors for posterity’s predication
Pandemically  phatic  propriety venerations
Their apex crux axis beyond finite solution
Carousel ceaselessly ceremony chaos character charisma
Cerebral cortex’s ****** matrix's vertex vortex
The individual must remain sacrosanct
Traipsing through the fallow furrows of assimilation’s synthetic synthesis
Like capillaries' capricious and intravenous intrepid
Incalculably sensual beyond emotion’s expression
Impetus intrigue's intuitional verve
Ethology’s entelechy, theosophy’s theophany
Zoomorphic zoolatry's social contiguities
Futurity's corporeally preternatural fatidic
Elan-vital's apotropaic apotheosis

She walked with me
Joined me in my laughter
Bowed with me in gratitude
Cried for the wanton desire

She romanced me
Torrid, exulting
She followed me
Slow, shadowy, bouncy too

My destiny
My birth-mate
Death
The only one who never left my side

no more than a boy trying to be a man
i once had come a crusader down from a far country
proud and strong with a sword swift and sure
wrote my name in the battles and beerhalls
but as my years travelled i began to wonder until
in the failing embers of a nights snowstorm
i came to this place to her
where i had come a crusader to this the last mystery
where i had come a warrior
set to do battle with some dire foe
only to surrender with willing hand
in the chapel of her soft face
in the sunset birthplace of all mans deepest desires
in the fragile breath she leaves upon the very air
i dare not breath lest i disturb its soft flight
she tells me of a love that had forsaken
she tells me of a land from which she has fled
her eyes a dark fire like ancient pools of magic's
her lips supple like heaven creased with tender folds
in the chapel of her tender face
i did waste away my former days
wandering in the starlight musings of her soft laugh
dazed by the intricate dance of her deep words
she romanced me into the quiet of a man forgotten of himself
laid aside my sword and took up the ploughshare
laid aside my warring nature for the robes of a gentle man
now on this far distant night
with the crisp winter eve
a deep snow leaving a heavy silence all round us
the sound comes to me from a far land
the drums of war calling all true sons to defend hearth and home
i came to this place a young man
crusader to this mysterious place
where such dark fires burn in the eyes in such beautiful women
now old i pull on my armour
and unsheathe my sword and sharpen the arrows to fly true and swift
for even the chapel of her tender face cannot undo
even this the fairest of women
cannot deny
what dark wind has laid at our door
come a crusader with his stallion and steel
come a crusader to reap the careworn and the strong
come a crusader seeking his glory in the sun
i must go out to meet him
i must stop his plunder before he reaches her
i must slay what i once had become
a crusader no-more

I hold the flames with my left hand
Whilst I mould you with my right
So you may be the deity I planned
A masterpiece, a perfect sight.
Into Olympus I carve you
You are a Muse, a golden fleece
A tradition polished until fresh and new
All that I that I seek, my missing piece.
I shall fight for you my dear,
For your ambrosia, I shall quest
Challenge me, send me far or near
Put my loyalty to the extreme test.
Let me be your hero, my love
I will paint you in the stars
We will travel past clouds and far above
We will look down on our love from afar.
For I have served many  gods
Romanced with many a goddess
But Cupid cannot enhance you
For you, I would trade my immortality
You are my heaven upon earth

like a hollow version of bobby dylan
she peeks out into the alley
before dashing out to
dance in the ***** rain
its grey face stains the asphalt
with strange designs
i wait for her to grow weary
before i try to rescue her from the wet alley
someday she will get to replay
her misspent youth
but not today
the agents of mystery remind me
she sits on her college textbooks
and towel dries her golden dreadlocks
as she excitedly tells me of her adventure
of how light she felt
as the ***** rain danced with her
how it romanced parts of her
that would make a good girl blush
she finally slows down with a great big yawn
put her to bed
wrap her up in my loving arms
and gave her a lullaby in perfect country english
she will cherish this
like she cherished the ***** rain
seeing things in our moments
that no-one else can ever know
magic is your lovers eye

You told me a story
Of mass destruction,
Then romanced the idea
Of self destruction.
You told me of a world
Filled with corruption,
Then added sugar to the taste
Of self corruption.
You told me of a people
Wrapped in infliction,
Then taught me the ways
Of self infliction.
You told me of a home
Trapped in desolation,
Then brought beauty to the thought
Of self desolation.
You told me of a family
Held back by ruination,
Then offered me a handful
Of self ruination.
So when you told me of a killer
And his tools for termination,
You suggested a simple gun:
Self termination.

Fashion has no shortage of characters, but China Machado was arguably one of the most vibrant among them. The industry veteran, according to reports, suffered cardiac arrest this weekend and died on Long Island reportedly at the age of 87, leaving behind a powerful legacy. A muse to Avedon and Givenchy, Machado spent decades at the nexus of fashion and entertainment, experiencing the business from all sides first as a model, then as an editor, gallerist, designer, and television producer, before cycling back to where it all started and signing a modeling contract with IMG Models in her early 80s.

Machado’s firebrand personality matched the outsized events of her life. The daughter of a Chinese mother and Portuguese father, Machado spent her childhood in Shanghai until World War II uprooted her family. Traveling through Argentina and Peru in her youth, Machado romanced the famed bullfighter Luis Miguel Dominguín until he left her for Hollywood star Ava Gardner. Relocating to Paris after the breakup, she eventually found herself modeling for Hubert de Givenchy and Cristóbal Balenciaga.

As one of the first nonwhite models to gain prominence on the runway of Europe, Machado opened doors for the generations of women of color who followed. Her refined good looks quickly made her an in-demand face, but it wasn’t until she joined forces with photography legend Richard Avedon that her career became iconic. When a magazine refused to publish Avedon’s images of Machado due to her race, he threatened not to renew his contracts and sent shock waves through the fashion world. Machado went on to become the first nonwhite woman to grace the cover of an American magazine, setting the stage for a representation of beauty that was considerably more inclusive than the blonde-haired blue-eyed standard of the 1960s.

As well as being a trailblazer, Machado was a master of reinvention. In a business known for discarding people, she stood the test of time by doing things her way. Switching gears to serve as senior fashion editor and fashion director of Harper’s Bazaar, getting shot by Andy Warhol, designing a namesake line of wraps, or resurfacing to pose with the likes of Steven Meisel—whatever project Machado took on, it was done with a respect for fashion. Speaking with Vogue earlier this year regarding her exceptional career, Machado chalked her successes up to one thing: the constant search for happiness. “Someone like me is a bit of a vagabond,” she said. “I like to experience every aspect of life. I think it’s crucial to be happy.”Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/red-carpet-celebrity-dresses