18 posts categorized "In Review"


When what you speak is different from what you mean...

Sometimes we speak and what comes out of our mouths has nothing to do with why we are speaking and how we are feeling at the time.  Sometimes we speak without thinking.  Sometimes speaking does the opposite of what we intend. 

It had been simmering for weeks.  First the questions, then the rumors, then their eyes.  There had been coldness, divisiveness and bitter talk.  I was sunny all the while.  I love travel, I love my friends, and I had felt sure that this was an opportunity for laughter and fun, not a continuation of what we left behind.  I considered it a fresh start.  I quickly saw my hopes dashed and what I saw was 10 days of nastiness and games ruining what could have been amazing.

You should know that because of my past, I actually avoid arguments and strife.  I am usually the first to step away from situations where there is a chance for things to get out of control.   In my own way, what I wanted was to put an end to what was simmering.  I thought that by confronting it, we could lay it to rest.  I admit, I did not succeed. 

I succeeded in hurting people who mean the most to me, people who had no part in what took place.  I wish to be more succesful in my words being true to my feelings.  I wish to use words to do exactly what I want them to - to represent what is loving, accepting, open and giving about me - letting go of what is damaged and still incomplete...



When Caesar built the coliseum...

He offered to the mob of Rome mindless entertainment.  He distracted them with games and spectacle while he took away their freedom.   They would be seduced by the sight of blood, gladiators fighting to the death, while he solidified control over the Roman empire.  He would give them death and they would love him for it.  Are you not entertained?

We, who choose to enter the ring, to distract them, the mob, we cannot blame them for their thirst for blood.  We must let them have their theatre, make them believe they own that which they are being fed.  One scene and they are filled for many days.  Pictures for them to dissect and analyze.  Words for them to chew on and spit out.  Mugshots, felon, criminal - oh, but to watch them pounce on a carcass, strip it to the bone and shred it to pieces. 

Is she or is she not to be seen?  They did not want her, she did not fit, she did not belong.  A trap was opened for them and they went to it willingly, never knowing she had simply stepped aside to let them fall.  Maybe, she understood what it was to be a gladiator, maybe she was not willing to become enslaved for the amusement of them all.

I see hunger in their eyes, they will not settle merely for blood - death is what they have come to watch.  I will wage battle for them.  I will endure their sticks, their stones, their sharpened weapons because freedom is still there for me to be had.  Eventually, I will remove my armour and they will find out who I am.  And when they do they will chant 'live, live, live.' 

I trust they will see why I have come to the ring, great victories already won along the way.  They will find out I have heard words far sharper than theirs, seen hungrier eyes.  I know they know not what they speak.  All that is required then is my patience, with patience I will continue to rise.


Say what now?


This is me at 4 years old.  Like many little girls, I had my hair combed and twisted into ponytails - often accompanied by tears - and I remember how much I loved to play with my dolls.  I look at me, and I see that innocence, the same as every other child.  I see eyes that don't yet know judgment, hate, cruelty and it's aftermath.  Those eyes that do not yet know that innocence will soon be taken away.  

It was a rainy day - the whole day had been cold and wet and gray - and I had looked forward to being picked up by my mother.  I was in Middle School, maybe 11 or 12, and was eager for the sight of her blue Cadillac.  I waited for her.  She never came.  A neighbor saw me waiting, and was upset about me being there after school, out in the rain.  She offered to take me home.  The scene plays quietly in my mind still, there is no sound, only color.  Me, walking through the front door, then the hallway, then opening the door to my mother's bedroom.  Him, beating her, savagely, unrelentingly, hatefully.  There was so much blood.  My neighbor had somehow come to her rescue just in time, because if she had not picked me up when she did and if I had not opened the door when I did...He stopped, and we were left to live with the blood, the bruises, the helplessness.

Darkness came and I did the best I could with chaos.  Some call it excuses and I understand.  There are those among us who are more perfect than me, who saw trouble and steered clear.  But for me there always was trouble and then I got into trouble and trouble was slow to disappear. 

If you are interested to know who I am and how I came to be, if you are curious and open, I have stories that I will tell.  Stories that, rather than excuses, are insight and an explanation.  They reveal me, the truth about me and all that I am.  I have stories I will tell and when I tell them you will see more of me in you than you know...


How do you meet successful men...


...she asked me.  She said she was tired of working her 9 to 5.  She was not the first one to ask me that, the question comes up all the time.  I have never had to ask this question, because despite my difficult upbringing, the answer to that was all around me. 

I want you to understand that I have always worked.  My first job was at McDonald's - of course that did not go so well.  I knew I wanted to be in fashion and after McDonald's I worked at a number of clothing stores such as Contempo Casuals, Wet Seal, and later Burdines.  I always worked and I even put myself through college, graduating with a Bachelor of Arts.  Later I would become a stylist and even when I had the opportunity to just sit back and enjoy the money I had, I chose to open my own Red Carpet Boutique.  I can tell you that the pride that came from selecting which brands to carry, the paint colors for the store interior, creating advertising and finally opening for business, was incredible to me.  Owning a boutique required long hours every day, but I loved creating it, directing it, and growing it. 

But I want you to know that it was my mother who taught me what I have always known.  Any man that she was involved with always brought home the checks.  And so would one of my first boyfriends, a local "entrepreneur" who bought me a gold Marlo name plate necklace, Bongo jeans and anything else I wanted at that time.  It was St. Petersburg, I was young and that is what I was exposed to.  He was the first man to take care of me and I have never had any different since then.

You must know that I have always believed that a man, a capable, able bodied man, provides for his family.  A man provides for people he cares about.  A man, like my grandfather, always took care of my grandmother and only after his eyesight failed did she have to work and help to make ends meet.  A man takes care of his household, his children, even his grandchildren.  It is what I have always seen around me and it is how I was raised.  My grandfather said, a man knows what a woman needs, a woman should not have to ask.  Any man that I have to ask, is not the man for Marlo...

You should know that your questions are inspiring me to teach, and that I will continue to send gems your way until you are all masters of your own destiny.  Class is in...



Photography by Pamela Mougin


What a laugh

Marlo all louisVia Talking with Tami

I had to laugh - all those kids, all different fathers, years of flaunting another woman's husband and now commentary from the sidelines, as if our memories are that short.  I had to laugh, that in the desire to paint me dirty all I keep seeing is this visual of a trailer, and a blur of cigarrettes, silicone, foul words and over glossed, over injected lips.  I had to laugh at those moments, when you know what you really want to say, but you just smile instead.  You all know what it's like when the situation requires for you to be a lady, even though you're thinking about how quickly you can unbuckle your strappy heels and mop the floor with all that chatter.  And I had to laugh in gratitude for holding back.  God has truly blessed me.  He blessed me because my life began with neglect and abandonment, and after a very long and difficult road, He allowed me to experience care, compassion and indulgence.  He blessed me to come from despair and a lack of self worth to confidence, self love and the kind of spirit that attracts kindness and generosity. With these blessings, I can only laugh and remember, I know Marlo, and others who know Marlo are always good to me...


Money is the best deodorant....

..said Elizabeth Taylor, but it does bring the stench of hatefulness.  "Where do you get your money?" is such a crass and distasteful thing to ask. It reeks of jealousy, envy, and insecurity.  It is even less attractive than a bad weave and too fitted clothes on an unfit body.  It makes me wonder, what about that is important to you?  What will those details do for you?  Are you looking for more information to judge and criticize?  Have you somehow drawn the conclusion that I do not deserve what I have but think that you do?  Or is it that you are disappointed in your life and resent the fulfillment in mine?  Many of my friends own bigger homes, more clothes, more jewelry, more cars - I celebrate them.  I love it that they are happy, that they are well taken care of, that they live exciting lives.  I want it for them, and I want it for those that do not have it.  I share with others what I have.  I am generous, I give easily, I take care of many people, I give anytime I can.  That is what God has blessed me to do!  I ask you, is how I live with my money - generously, selflessly, joyously - not more important than how I receive it?


My tree, my friends, plenty of Krug & joy...

Marlo Hampton Shows Off Posh Home At Viewing Party


The YBF was kind enough to show pictures of Sunday's Preview Party.  See my friends come out to support me and start the holiday festivities here!


Could it Be?

Marlo-Hampton-in-Gucci-Color-BlockGucci Spring 2011

Don't you love it, the beginning?  The early parts of a relationship, when it's new and unknown and every day is a revelation?  Did you see the look on my face, walking into the Bar One Party?  There is a calm that comes over you when you are with someone you care about and you feel safe with them.  When you've got your sexy dress on and you love being on his arm.  The beginning, when you want to support that person in what they do, nurture them, yelling at them to move away from the food so they can reach their fitness goals!  Were you laughing at that too?!  In the beginning, it feels just like,

You move me... I'm burning
Such passion I'm yearning
One thought keeps returning
Could it be... I'm in love?

~Minnie Ripperton

I like the beginning, it's what comes after that I sometimes don't like...You'll find the dress in my closet, waiting for one of you to wear it for someone worthy.

I know I have not yet answered your question.  Who is Marlo Hampton?  I promise that I will, if you promise to stay with me.  If you promise to be patient, I will reveal many things to you.  Like the fear of seeing yourself in a way you never have before.  Sleepless nights over not always being the best that you can be.  I wonder what you thought about it, what did you see that I could not see?  What would you like to see?