Teyana Taylor Poses In Fall Fashions For Elle Magazine

Teyana Taylor can go from tomboy chic, to sexy business casual real quick.

Just in time for her album promo, the GOOD Music diva is busting out her best model poses for Elle magazine as they took

tour around her Harlem ‘hood. Rocking threads by Alexander Wang, Coach, Ellery Maryfair, Calvin Klein, They shows us what a fly chick on the go should be wearing to look hot this Fall.

Slay ‘em Tey!



Teyana’s debut album VII will be dropping on November 4.

Catch more over at http://www.elle.com/fashion/spotlight/teyana-taylor-fall-looks?click=hprc#slide-1

Nicki Minaj Poses For GQ, Says Anaconda Video Represented Women Taking Their Power Back

Nicki Minaj: Cheeky Genius

She’s done with the pink hair, and the bonkers outfits, and at least a few of the alter egos. Nicki Minaj is now in her world-conqueror phase—her new album, following two platinum-sellers, is immodestly titled The Pinkprint—and she’s got a new message to go with it: This isn’t all about butts anymore. Except for when it absolutely, positively is.

Nicki Minaj’s eyeliner is a precision event, a marvel, as if drawn on by the kind of pre-programmed robot arm used for laparoscopic surgeries. It is a peacock navy color, dark and shiny and full, extending maybe a not-outrageous half centimeter up from the top lid, extending an additional still-not-crazy three centimeters outward past where her eyes end. Her eyelashes are even and delicate, like wisps from a dandelion, and I can’t recall if I’ve ever seen her without prosthetic versions. I have had plenty of time to search my memory, though, because here on this couch, in this room, during this interview, with me sitting next to her, Nicki Minaj has fallen asleep.

We are at Barclays Center in one of the dressing rooms, which are low, low beneath Brooklyn; most are named after streets and neighborhoods in the borough. During the rehearsals for Fashion Rocks, the New York Fashion Week concert fund-raiser, the halls were filled with publicists and escorts who had to pretend not to be dazzled by those they were escorting. Minaj had walked in a few minutes before, tiny next to her assistant and her muscle, wearing black sunglasses, a trucker hat cocked to the side, and a T-shirt with the periodic-table box for carbon. She had been led straight into the DeKalb dressing room, named for the street that bisects a couple of local neighborhoods now populated by yuppies but that still contain housing projects. Her smile is a warm sun. As is this room. The temperature in here has been set to about 300 degrees, at Nicki’s request. She says she gets cold a lot.

Next door to her is the Canarsie dressing room—I actually grew up in Canarsie; it’s still a dump—and inside is Usher, who at the MTV Video Music Awards last month slapped Nicki’s ass and continues to slap it endlessly in GIFs all over the Internet. Nicki was the star of the VMAs that night. Her hot, humpy performance of “Anaconda” was part of a medley, and it was followed by a quick costume change that didn’t quite reach completion: She had to pinch the two breast-covering flaps of her black dress closed, because her cue for the finale of the opener, “Bang Bang,” with Jessie J and Ariana Grande, came before she could zip. She power-walked in like a boss, joining the other two onstage, both of them so skinny and with such rough angles and straight edges and reaching so hard for some soul. Nicki destroyed them.

This is what she does. She takes a pretty good song, waits until you are popping along to it, then a little longer, until it feels repetitive and you start to see through to its flaws, and then boom, she comes in and makes it a completely different song—a better song. She is the best part even of great songs; her featured verse on Kanye West’s “Monster” is the best of several, including ones by Jay Z and Rick Ross. She did that song because she was asked and because “Kanye’s a genius.” She did “Bang Bang” because she “knew it would be big.”

In the dressing room on the other side of Nicki’s, the Empire, named after a boulevard in Brooklyn that sounds regal but is even rougher than Canarsie ever was, is J.Lo. I could write a dissertation about the two seconds during which MTV caught J.Lo watching Nicki do “Anaconda” at the VMAs. Perhaps J.Lo, in those seconds, stares at Nicki and considers her own youth, and also that this is what she has wrought, that back when she brought this whole butt thing into the mainstream all those years ago, she went out of her way to be discreet, to keep us wanting more, to never let us look her ass directly in its eye, that it was an ass of implication and innuendo—that, if she may, she made asses safe for the white folks at home in a way they never had been before. Who knew that just giving the people what they wanted would yield such success? In those two seconds, J.Lo’s look is a mixture of pride and despair.

It has been counterpointed to me that perhaps J.Lo was just thinking of how far we’d all come, that now we can all celebrate our asses. I don’t know; maybe if she didn’t have a new album out, I’d agree. Contact me to debate this; I will make myself available. I want to talk about asses so much. I want to know what it is we’re telling the world when we use our asses in the way that Nicki has been using her ass—when they are not the accent in a video but the point of it.

And most of all, of course, I want to know Nicki’s thoughts on this. I was awake there in the DeKalb, and I had questions. She was asleep, which was fine, I suppose, because she didn’t appear to have answers, anyway.

The Versus Versace party she’d attended the night before our interview had yielded a plastic case filled with M&M’s—an odd party favor, something I’ve received at bar mitzvahs. She pulled it out of her purse as we talked in the basement of Barclays, and this would be my only indication that she recognized she needed a boost. The case was taped closed, so I offered to open it for her; her nails, a pointy taupe manicure, were making it hard. We ate some together, and she noticed that they each had the Versus lion insignia on them. “Isn’t that crazy,” she said, impressed.

She’s into branding these days, particularly her own. In the “Anaconda” video, there are no fewer than five products placed prominently for advertising: her Beats by Dre speakers imprint and her Moscato but also a Victoria’s Secret bra, some Air Jordans, and a baffling “teatox” drink called MateFit (dialysis machine sold separately). It’s not exactly seamless integration, and at times it is so overt that it feels like a comment on the culture of branding, maybe some poignant thought about sex and consumerism?

Nope. “My management team has a division that has a guy that his main focus is to go out there and find new brands for me to do business with or to find brands that would like to be in our videos and contribute to our budget,” she says. It’s like a Kickstarter, but for a multi-millionaire.

She was not born wealthy. Nicki, 31, grew up in Queens and attended LaGuardia, the high school from Fame. She says her father once tried to burn down her house while her mother was inside. She did odd jobs after school: She was a customer-service rep for a while, but that didn’t go great. “I like dealing with people, but I don’t really like a lot of bullshit, so maybe customer service wasn’t the best job for me.” She was fired from a waitressing job at a Red Lobster after she followed a couple who had taken her pen into the parking lot and then flipped them the bird. I asked her if it was a special pen. “No,” she said. “It was the principle.”

She came to prominence in outsize, italic, caps-lock, Technicolor exaggeration—pink wigs, outrageous outfits, eyelashes that were a comment about eyelashes. She had different personas—alter egos, she called them—with names and backstories. She did funny accents and was willing to make herself beautiful, then grotesque, then absurd, then back again. And here she is now, demure by comparison, just plain old black extensions, just a T-shirt about carbon.

"I always thought that by the time I put out a third album, I would want to come back to natural hair and natural makeup," she told me. "I thought, I will shock the world again and just be more toned down. I thought that would be more shocking than to keep on doing exactly what they had already seen."

She no longer feels as if she needs to hide behind outrageousness. This next chapter is about success. Nicki Minaj is rap’s first and only female mogul, having parlayed all your ogling into a spot on Forbes’s Cash Kings list—the only person of our gender paid well enough to be so honored. She is the top-charting woman in rap, a top-charting rapper in general, and a crossover phenomenon who can go back and forth between hip-hop and pop the way Taylor Swift can no longer go back and forth between country and pop.

A few days earlier, she’d been in Los Angeles finishing up her third album, The Pinkprint, out this month, and she’s changed things “a billion times” because she’s a perfectionist. Her first two albums were big hits, platinum sellers. Already The Pinkprint has yielded a chart-topping single and an unstoppable meme—the “Anaconda” cover art features Nicki, pants nowhere in sight, squatting, photographed from behind—but also a quieter Nicki, and certainly a more tired one. She can’t be baited into talking shit about anyone anymore; she answers questions simply and succinctly.

Now that we have charted her rise as a cultural force, it is time to ask Nicki exactly what she’s trying to say. If the “Anaconda” cover is the autumn of her flamboyance, it is time to get what we’ve wanted all along: an explanation of what exactly is going on here, which is something I will ask her the minute she wakes up.

To be completely accurate, she never fell into actual REM sleep during our interview, but at four separate times she dozed off, her head jerking awake at just the moment it had started to dip. In between, she was what I could call low-key and reserved, because I am generous, but the picture looked like this: those eyelids, falling, falling over eyes that would cross momentarily, closing for a moment but staying too long—a blink that lasted a few blinks longer than a blink.

But also, to be completely fair, I’m not sure how she was upright at all. This was the middle of New York Fashion Week, and if you followed her Instagram, every few hours it was a new event with a new dress, new hair, new makeup. It was parties all night, all the air-kissing, all the red carpets.

And of course all this fancy dress-up plays into the sort of bodily performance art she’s been doing onstage and in her videos since her first mixtape, in 2007; that release was called Playtime Is Over, and on the cover she was a plastic doll in a box. She has put herself in a Barbie box at least twice, actually, the second time in a video with Mariah Carey. She is among the few living women in Kanye’s “Monster” video, which is a landscape of female corpses—”the strangest video I ever shot”—and there are two of her in it; one her ties up and whips the other her with a riding crop. And now comes this song and video, which are clearly about the female form and the male obsession with it. She must have something to say about this.

"The female form?" she asks, brow furrowed, her head cocked back, like, Huh?! Yes, of course, I say. Now we’re getting down to it. Now we’re going to talk about butts.

No, she says, it’s just a song, there’s no hidden meaning, no layer beneath. “She”—Nicki’s character in the video—”is just talking about two guys that she dated in the past and what they’re good at and what they bought her and what they said to her. It’s just cheeky, like a funny story.” Cheeky. She has to be messing with me.

But “Anaconda” samples a song that’s literally called “Baby Got Back.” There must be some thought given to this part of the body, considering all the attention it receives. Choreography points to it; she boosts it up and it receives applause. The song is a five-minute gender-studies symposium.

But Nicki shakes her head: “All it says is, ‘My anaconda don’t.’ “ Why are we talking about asses?she seems to be saying. Sure, there is a direct, not inferred, reference in her lyrics to “salad tossing”—which, to be clear, is the act of being anally probed by someone else’s tongue. But this is a song about reptiles. Don’t be such an intellectual!

Okay, fine. You can’t deny the video, though. You can’t pretend that there isn’t some extreme sexual commentary going on in the video, right? A steamy women’s-only jungle mecca, aerobic slithering, drumming on a dancer’s ass. There, in the video, Nicki is twerking and crawling across the floor to poor, hapless Drake, sitting in a puddle of his own anticipatory blue balls. She slaps him before he can touch her, and that has to mean something.

"I knew that I wanted a gym theme." Shrug. "And that’s that." That’s that, guys. That’s that.

She sees me grasping, and maybe she feels a little sorry for me, so she offers me this: “I think the video is about what girls do.” She is poking at a salad that hasn’t been tossed. (The dressing came on the side.) “Girls love being with other girls, and when you go back to us being younger, we would have slumber parties and we’d be dancing with our friends.” (I’ll take her word for it; the slumber parties were not jungle-themed in Canarsie.)

Okay, the “Anaconda” cover art, then. It was almost an afterthought, she says, the product of a photo shoot on the day that the “Anaconda” video was shot. “I just said I’ll put it out, never thought in a billion years that people would be putting [other] people’s heads on it. It’s the craziest shit.” I tell her that online I’d seen it as a rocket, jet fuel and fire being released from her undercarriage. “What hasn’t it been?” she says. “They’ve made it everything.”

You heard it here first. “Anaconda” is about a snake, and also about a woman’s ex-boyfriends, and the video is just one big slumber party. You can release a record cover into the atmosphere that makes all who see it so shocked and discomforted that their only way to metabolize it is to turn it into the world’s fastest-spreading meme, to the point where her squatting form ends up on a polo shirt, right where the little crocodile usually goes. You can do all this, and still you can look someone in the eye and say that it’s not cynical in the least, that it’s not a comment on gender or sex or the culture or anything. Double shrug. These are not the droids you’re looking for.

"I don’t know what there is to really talk about," she says. "I’m being serious. I just see the video as being a normal video."

We are winding down, because it’s time for Nicki to go rehearse. For this performance, she has incorporated male dancers. “I went in yesterday, finally saw the dance for the first time, and I saw the guys doing all this sexy stuff that I wasn’t a part of. And I said, ‘Hello, why aren’t they humping me on the stage?’ ” The choreographer didn’t realize that this was something she might want. She does: “We’ve got to give them something to talk about again.”

So it’s all for shock, it’s all for talk, it’s all for hashtags and memes. Not even a contrived statement—which is fine, it’s just that most people at least pretend there’s something they’re trying to say. And so I’m left to wonder, where is the woman who pronounced in an MTV documentary that she won’t stand for disrespect, that she won’t accept being given pickle juice at a photo shoot? Where is the philosophy and the fire? And there in the DeKalb, where it is so hot I can see sound, I start to wonder if I’m losing it. I look over to ask Nicki, to suggest that maybe I should take a nap, too, and we can let our unconsciouses figure this out—I could be her hype man, but for naps!—except she is out again.

The next night, at Fashion Rocks, J.Lo went on before Nicki. The song she performed was called “Booty,” and the only lyrics I could discern were Big, big booty / what you got a big booty again and again, J.Lo marking her territory. If you could troll Nicki Minaj through a song, this was it. J.Lo wore a short dress and did a move you mostly see strippers do on cop shows—I’ll call it the squatted twerk: knees bent, up down up down up down, butt close to the ground but never touching it. We clapped loudly for this. A woman behind me who has no idea how the record-promotion business works panted to her companion, “I hope Nicki does ‘Anaconda.’ “

Right before I left her the previous night, Nicki had stopped me, and maybe because she felt bad for me and maybe because she, too, is generous, she had given me two things—a ticket to this show and this tiny morsel:

"I’m chopping up the banana. Did you realize that?"

What? What banana?

In the “Anaconda” video, she says. “At first I’m being sexual with the banana, and then it’s like, ‘Ha-ha, no.’ ” I ask if she’s referring to how the Drake scene immediately follows the kitchen scene. “Yeah, that was important for us to show in the kitchen scene, because it’s always about the female taking back the power, and if you want to be flirty and funny that’s fine, but always keeping the power and the control in everything.”

Maybe she had been messing with me all along.

Or maybe she was simply telling me that it is not her job to explain herself. I had been warned before the interview that I shouldn’t ask about her ass, that she finds it degrading, and I had chalked up her reticence to that. But maybe this is what she finds degrading: to work day and night to get those features down, to make actual magic and to make it come out in full articulation, every syllable, every accent, meticulously applied to save someone else’s song in the third act, to entertain you, only to have some asshole come down to the DeKalb dressing room in the two hours that she could have spent taking a real nap, not an upright one, and ask her what she means when she’s doing the thing she does. Must she do everything? She’s not hiding anything—look at her, she literally isn’t hiding anything. It’s all there for you to see. Do some of the work yourself, people. She’s busy running her brand. She’s inspiring a meme that will keep us busy for months. She is tasting the Moscato and smelling the Nicki Minaj perfume that comes in miniature busts of Nicki Minaj. She is not here for your gender-studies symposium. It is not her job to tell you who the eff she is. And she’s exhausted. She is only made of carbon after all, just like you and me.

She came out in her sparkle bra, tearing fiercely across the stage. "Bwoy twoy named Trwoy used to live in Detrwoit.…" J.Lo was already re-seated and watching the performance, and at first she clapped along lazily, but then stopped. For a variety of reasons, it is hard to parse what might be going on in J.Lo’s mind by looking at her face, but when Nicki launched into her own dancer-backed squatted twerk—a younger twerk, a bouncier twerk—I swear I saw J.Lo’s left eyelid blink out of sequence with her right one, a subdermal twitch indicating that perhaps she’d had a rage stroke.

Meanwhile, onstage, Nicki was hoisted up by the male dancers, arms in the air in full expression, and the sunshine of her smile shone into the arena. She was all rested up.

Courtesy: http://www.gq.com/entertainment/celebrities/201411/nicki-minaj?currentPage=1


Fantasia’s Rumored Husband Gets Her Name Tattooed On His Chest

Getting a tattoo of your boo’s name or face spells death can sometimes put a spell on the relationship. So far that’s come true for Nas and Kelis, Wiz and Amber, and Mariah and Nick. But we definitely hope that won’t be the case for Fantasia and her rumored husband, Kendall Taylor.

Sunday night, Fantasia’s man let the singer know that his love for her was real by getting a tattoo of her name tattooed right on his chest. The huge piece also serves as notice that the COO is also the singer’s protector because her name is actually part of a larger piece. Covering his entire left pectoral and shoulder is a tattoo of a suite of armor which has Fanny’s name inked right in the middle.

Fantasia shared [and deleted] the artwork on her Instagram, with the caption:

“Loyalty does not come Cheap!!!”

She also confirmed that she has an amazing relationship with her ex Antwaun Cook when she posted a photo of their son Dallas (who is too damn cute by the way) with Antwaun’s other kids and captioned it:

Dallas and His Brothers.. He Loves Spending time with them.. I Thank God For The Growth and The Great Relationship I have with His Stepmom and Dad.. Growth and change… ❤️

It’s been a rocky road but it looks as though everyone has moved on and the drama is way behind them.

Missy Elliott Debuts 30-Pound Weight Loss

Missy Elliott has always been supa dupa fly, but now that fly has a new frame!

Thanks to a lifestyle change prompted by her six-year battle with an autoimmune disorder, the 43-year-old rapper looked slim, trim and nearly unrecognizable this weekend as she attended and performed at Alexander Wang’s H&M launch in New York City.

Having already lost 70 pounds in 2002, Missy says she lost an additional 30 pounds recently, which she credits to eating healthy and Shaun T workout videos.

The rapper began taking her health seriously after being diagnosed with Graves disease (an illness that causes the thyroid gland to produce too much thyroid hormone) in 2008. Things got so bad at one point that Missy says she couldn’t even hold a pen to write! But since then, she appears to be doing really well. Hopefully this means we get a new album!

Robin Thicke spent some father/son time with his adorable Julian at Mr Bones Pumpkin Patch in West Hollywood, California over the weekend. 

Ciara Harris went shopping with her baby son, Future Jr., and her father at The Grove in Hollywood, CA. 

Did Fantasia Get Married To Her New Man?

Has Fantasia secretly jumped the broom?

Last month, Tasia introduced her new man — Kendall Taylor — to us on IG with a heartfelt message about him being the man of her dreams. Soon after, rumors began spreading that the couple had eloped after two weeks of knowing each other and were already living as husband and wife for three months. While we don’t know if those details are facts, we do know Fanny’s on IG wearing a ring on her wedding finger and proclaiming to be Kendall’s “Mrs.”

Last night, before being inducted into the North Carolina Music Hall of Fame, the 30-year-old singer shared an affectionate snap of her and Kendall — both wearing rings — and captioned it:

This Man…. Lord!!!! My Mr and I’m Mrs [heart emoji]. . Daddy He Is… What A Night is all I can say.. Ending it with you Baby Makes it All Better [kissing emoji]


Kendall was also wearing a ring in this bathroom selfie Fantasia posted of him last month.


If the happy couple are married, congratulations!

She also shared another picture, this time solo, to thank her fans for their support:

Tonight Is My Night [rose emoji] Fantasia is Being Inducted into the Hall of Fame.. Thanking My Lord Jesus Christ, All my Rock Soul Supporters and those who have been thru the ups and downs the Good and the Bad the Happy and Lord Have Mercy the Sad… Thank God for it All Cause I’m Wiser, Stronger and Better then I’ve Ever Been Before.. Guess what Tho [smiley face emoji] We Just Getting Started… Rock Soul

Blac Chyna and Tyga Celebrate King Cairo’s 2nd Birthday

Is Blac Chyna attempting to get her man back?

Just a day after she took to Instagram to tweet and delete a photo of her and Tyga in bed, the former vixen is throwing even more hints that the former couple may be going through a reconciliation.

Yesterday, the former couple celebrated King Cairo’s 2nd birthday with a Despicable Me-themed party and they looked like the happy couple they once were in photos that Blac Chyna captioned, “My Family ….”

Tyga also shared a clip from the party, posting an Instavid of Blac Chyna and everyone else singing “Happy Birthday” to the adorable toddler.

The [temporary?] reconciliation comes just two days after the LASHED owner posted and deleted a picture of she and Tyga in bed together, and three days after Tyga was spotted on an early dinner date with Kylie Jenner.

Last year, Blac Chyna and Tyga had a Disney themed party for Cairo’s first birthday that was attended by Kim and Kourtney Kardashian, however the Kardashians were missing in action this year.

Sanaa Lathan was one of the celebs attending the XXIV Karat Launch Party in Beverly Hills on Thursday.

Sanaa Lathan was one of the celebs attending the XXIV Karat Launch Party in Beverly Hills on Thursday.

Amber Rose attended the XXIV Karat Launch Party at the Beverly Hilton Hotel in Beverly Hills, California on Thursday.