Image Jacqueline Cioffa © Chris Fanning Photography This Face If I only show you the photoshopped, concealed, makeup pretty me You’d never understand the underbelly The crunchy grit, rawness hidden beneath The really good stuff, the honest kind that matters This face is not the who, how, or where This face is not the who,
FASHION IS FICKLE When did we become a society of images scrolling past on someone’s smartphone? It’s nonsensical, comical and yet. Modeling was my life for two decades. I never felt entitled, prettier, skinnier or better than the next girl. In fact, I always felt a little less than. Maybe if I was thinner, smarter,
Never Judge a Book By Jacqueline Cioffa Here’s the thing about writing. When someone risks pencil to paper and is fortunate enough to convey an emotion about the unique way they view the world well that’s art, magic and creative expression. I am not a brand. God, I hate that word. Although, I have been.
Take a Picture, or Not By Jacqueline Cioffa This face. This face has been scrunched and smothered by new new talc scented infant kisses This face has been covered in mud, dirt, blood, open-wounded, stitched, patched and put back together This face has been brave, kind and stubborn pout five-year-old defiant This face has been
Looking Glass and The Windowpane By Jacqueline Cioffa Let’s face it; there’s no fooling. The sagging skin, the wrinkled face, the ridiculous forty something woman in short skirts and bottled-up Botox. The gravitational pull and the eventual flight back home were booked in advance. You already hold the winning ticket. I recognize the faces in