Photography and Set Design: Tony Ward, Copyright 2024
Styling and Creative Direction: KVaughn
Lighting Assistant: Anthony Colagreco
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THE LATEST VIXEN
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I have had the honor of working with Tony Ward only a few times over the last couple decades-most recently with Ellen Tiberino for The Vixen Series. So when Tony asked if I would be a part of this project, I thought he meant behind the scenes doing hair and makeup. I was shocked when I realized that he wanted to photograph ME. I’m never in front of the camera. I don’t even take selfies.
I love creating Vixens and encouraging Vixens, but I had never thought of myself as a Vixen. I think of a Vixen as a woman who breaks from tradition, supersedes expectations and takes control of her destiny. She exudes confidence and sexuality. She IS fire! Well, part of that is definitely me. I have been an entrepreneur most of my life. I have never had the patience to wait around for things to happen. I have been told that I’m outspoken. And I only know how to do things in my own weird ways. I’m a sexual being through and through but I have never considered myself to be sexy. When I told Tony this, he assured me that I was in good hands. And THAT I believed. I stepped out of my comfort zone and let him take the lead. And it was a wild ride!
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
For almost two decades, Tracey Olkus has been transforming faces and elevating styles from her private studio in Philadelphia. Specializing in everything from everyday glam to commercial shoots to TV and film.
Tracey’s artistic interests extend beyond the chair. With a passion for costuming, she crafts bespoke headdress designs available through commissioned works.
As the curator of The Performance Salon, Tracey provides a platform for emerging and established artists to showcase their talents in an intimate setting. From musicians, to thespians, writers to chefs, The Performance Salon has become a hub for artistic expression with performances that leave audiences mesmerized.
But Tracey’s interests go beyond her professional pursuits . A dedicated patron of the arts and the finer things in life, she enjoys hosting extravagant dinner parties and whimsical camping trips…often simultaneously.
When it is time to escape, Tracey can be found exploring the world, talking to strangers, and collecting stories from every corner of the globe. And along the way, she is most happy to have has amassed an eclectic collection of friends that share her passion for the extraordinary.
If you’ve read my earlier posts here, you know how close I am with my family. They are a large part of the person I am today. If you haven’t, well, that’s kind of an understatement but still true.
Recently, I was shocked to get the several days delayed news that my mother had fallen and severely injured herself. She required immediate surgery and would need to remain in the hospital. It was very little consolation that this injury occurred while she was doing what she and my father love- seeing the world from on board a cruise ship- or that said ship was docked in the gorgeous port of Maui, Hawaii at the time. She was, literally, on the other side of the world, and there was not a damn thing I could do to help.
When we were finally able to speak, my parents told me of the excellent care at the hospital, the kindness delivered alongside the routine medical services. And, of course, they were thankful that the hospital was near beachfront and they had a gorgeous view. They could still see a bit of Hawaii, despite their situation.
My siblings and I, unknown to either of our parents, sprang into action, assigning and volunteering for key tasks that would need to be completed before mom came home. She would be unable to climb stairs for 6 weeks, maybe longer. There was no way we could allow her to come home without a plan that was in equal parts for her recuperation and for our peace of mind. We would need to make the ground floor comfortable enough to be a makeshift bedroom for her, clear enough to safely accommodate a wheelchair or walker, private enough to allow for daily hygiene tasks if she couldn’t get to the bathroom.There was more we didn’t know about what she needed, than what we did.Everything we could think to do, was done, having no idea when -or HOW- they would be getting home. We were as ready as we could be.
Luckily, my niece was with them and made the necessary flight and hotel arrangements to get them all safely from there to here. Just shy of one week from the day we heard the news, we were planning for their arrival back to Philadelphia. Unfortunately, the weather was not cooperating. A week of storms made travel more dangerous, not to mention added the never fun task of snow and ice removal to our to-do list. But that evening, the flight remained on time and we got mom and dad (niece and fiancée, too) home safely, to a clear driveway, and an organized house with only a few minor hiccups not even worth mentioning.
As we settled them in and listened to all of the details between hugs and tears, the relief everyone felt was obvious. Home is a magical, comforting place. We pointed out all that was done in preparation and made sure nothing was missed, addressing if it was. Soon, all of us were yawning, it was definitely time to rest, but not before confirming the remainder of the plan.
Reconvening the following morning, we shopped, chopped, cooked and meal prepped, cleaned and did laundry. We made it easy for dad to keep things going while he worried and fussed over mom. We also sat around and did what we do best. We ate, we talked and laughed, made wildly inappropriate jokes and brought back a sense of normalcy.
Completely overwhelmed, mom repeatedly apologized, dad paced, and both thanked us profusely. As we finished up tasks, made sure every detail was handled, Dad beamed, telling us how proud he was at the way we pulled together; no arguing, no questions asked, just jumping into action when they were in need.
My first thought was to say “oh, it’s nothing!” but recalled another instance of stepping in to handle a stressful situation for someone else and the response that remark got me.“Don’t ever say that. It may seem insignificant to you, but that small thing, that “nothing” meant so much more than words can express.” And so, standing in the kitchen, drying my hands after cleaning up the last of our mess, I hugged my dad, tightly, and told him, “that’s what we do, right? It’s what you and mom taught us, by showing us. If there’s something you can do to help, you do it. We love you.”
Honestly, there really isn’t a better lesson I can think of that they taught me by setting this example. It’s not one that only applies in times of crisis or just to family either. An action, a compliment, getting someone their favorite snack just because, being a hug or shoulder to cry on, whatever it may be, however little effort it took, it means something. It could mean everything to that person in that moment.
It’s the smallest things bring me the most joy, whether I’m providing or receiving them. Grand gestures make me uncomfortable. Words often go unsaid. But the ‘I saw this and thought of you,’ the ‘I did that thing you’ve been putting off so you don’t have to worry about it,’ the everyday mundane, small things, the going slightly out of your way, tolerating a mildly inconvenient moment for the benefit of someone else, unasked….THAT is love in the purest, kindest form.
So, in this month of all things chocolate, roses, hearts and love, as people bend over backward for their Valentines for one day,think smaller. It might mean more than you will ever know.
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Kitchie Ohh is a full-time professional fundraiser who has worked with a number of health and human services nonprofits in the Philadelphia area over the last 20 years. She found her passion for modeling after a pinup-style photoshoot in 2013. Since then, she has worked with many talented photographers, stylists, hair and makeup artists in a variety of styles. She has been featured in- and on the covers of – multiple print and digital publications. Over the years, she has branched out from pinup studio modeling to serve as a figure model for live sketching, walked a runway, and was part of two campaigns for Philadelphia designer K. Vaughn.
In addition to her philanthropy-focused career, she has volunteered with art, historical, and community organizations, and even the events team of a local brewery for a while, pre-pandemic.
You’re just as likely to find her whipping up something deliciously plant-based in her kitchen or knitting a sweater as you are to find her on a photography set. Her motto is “be both.” The model and the homemaker, sultry and sweet, serious and silly. All the things, all at once. To access additional articles by Kitchie Ohh, link here:https://tonyward.com/kitchie-ohh-thanks-i-feel-awful/
Picture this, it was during the 1996 Christmas Holiday season. While sitting with one of my favorite bartender’s, Dominic, at Mia’s Restaurant at the Warwick Hotel in Philadelphia, a tall enthusiastic guy entered the bar area with a bag, greeting Dominic as if they knew each other for years. After a brief introduction, Kvaughn opened his bag pulling out scarf after scarf, after scarf. There was one scarf that stood out to me, that I had to have. It was a festive black organza embossed with sparkling martini glasses and bubbles reminding me of champagne. I wore it with my New Year’s Eve outfit that year. I was hooked from there. The following year, I purchased not only for myself, but for family and friends as gifts.
Soon after, I sought Kvaughn throughout the year for different events that I attended. There are two occasions that come to mind.
In 2000, I attended a birthday celebration for Senator Hillary Clinton in New York, first a small private function, then a much larger event at a theater on Broadway. I happened to be wearing a blue Armani suit, lavender shirt and tie with a Kvaughn original, a multi-colored sequined scarf offsetting the color of the combination. During the intermission, as I approached President Clinton, Christian Slater stopped me to say that I looked amazing…I am sure it was because of the scarf! By the way, I never got to President Clinton because the intermission came to an end.
I lost touch with Kvaughn, due to my schedule. I lived in Manhattan and worked in Atlanta at that time. On one of my visits back to Philly, this is also one of Kvaughn’s favorite recollections, I was strolling along Walnut Street, wearing olive green Versace turtleneck with Versace couture jeans accompanied with a long velvet maroon/silver iridescent original by Kvaughn, when we ran into each other. I told him that I had been looking for him, because I needed to add to my collection. I took him to Del Frisco’s for cocktails so that we could catch up.
I was exposed to fashion and style at an early age. My parents exuded style. They never stepped outside the front door without being impeccably dressed whether for casual occasions or in party attire. After sitting down to dinner with the family, Dad would put on his smoking jacket and retire to the living room for family time. They dressed my sisters and I in the latest fashions of the day. When I was allowed to pick out my own clothes and it was met with approval, I felt that my mission was accomplished. My style and accessories during my school years were, one might say, impressive.
I attended Northeastern University in Boston, and after my freshman year I moved to a townhouse in the South End with a designer friend from Philadelphia who graduated from the Fashion Institute of Technology (FIT) in NYC, and his friend. During this period, I met other designers and models, both print and runway. Newbury Street was full of clothing stores. Finding Louis, Boston, rated Best Men’s Store in America at the time, was like hearing the Angels sing as I crossed the threshold. How does an 18-year-old know how to select a haberdashery? I found select suits, ascots, and other items that truly set me apart from the college male style. As Special Assistant to the Director of the African American Institute, planning events and hosting them, I had to look my best. One year, while still at the school, I was recruited to walk the catwalk at a fashion show and stole the show.
Moving to NYC gave me another glimpse of the world of fashion. Working at Just Above Midtown (JAM) Art Gallery on West 57th Street, Linda Goode-Bryant, Curator, introduced me to an array of artists, celebrities, and collectors. Fast forward 2001, the week after 9/11, I met Delores Aitenfisu who happened to be on the Board at JAM while I was there. Delores had her own company, D. Scott Events and I was asked to join her in planning fundraising galas for Young Audiences, which were Black Tie.
Travels to Rome, Positano and to the Islands, further enhanced my passion to accessorize my style.
When I was a kid, my dad was on dinner duty during the week, and I was a very picky eater. We had a running joke when I asked what he was making, there were usually multiple pots and pans in use on the stove. He would lift one lid and say, “this is eww.” He’d close that, lift another and say, “and this is yuck.”I usually disliked at least one element of meals and would say so, often in those exact words, eww and yuck. Ugh, why couldn’t he just make stuff that I liked?Thankfully, I’ve outgrown that. My tastes have changed, I try new things but still, I like what I like. I can do so without need for commenting on the parts I don’t, or that others do, now. To each their own, doesn’t bother me at all.
Apparently, not everyone grew out of their ‘eww/yuck’ phase. Many grew deeper into it, digging so far in as to make remarks anytime they see someone consuming food they dislike, or declaring anyone who likes something prepared differently than the original way, or the way they prefer, wrong or that the recipe isn’t authentic, and the person can’t be truly enjoying it.Pineapple doesn’t belong on pizza soapboxers, I’m looking directly at you. Seriously, though, can’t we just let people enjoy things? I don’t need you to compare my tofu to all kind of nastiness as I’m eating it, or tell me that I’m doing something scandalous by eating pickled ginger with my sushi roll, or heaven forbid, having peppers on my cheesesteak. I am fully aware that not everyone likes tofu, ginger is included as a palate cleanser, and a “Philly” cheesesteak doesn’t call for peppers, but I LIKE these things…and don’t recall asking for your input. The fact that all of these things are made, sold, and consumed widely show I am not alone, so there.
The eww/yuck idea spills over from food preferences into all aspects of life, though. No matter who you are or what you do, someone is going to have something to say and it won’t always be kind. Or welcome. Or even directly to you. And there is little to nothing you can do to change that.
We’ve covered food preference, and I went light on that, believe me, it could have been a longer rant. But let’s hit some other topics shall we? Let’s start with physical appearance. I am a brunette. I’ve gone lighter, nearly blonde for a while, then to the other end of the spectrum with a near-black brown. I’ve gone pink, purple, and for the longest stretch, red. it’s been extra long, quite short and every length in between, straight, wavy and curly. I’m currently letting it grow, trying to figure out what my actual hair color is and allowing the grey to come as it may. At nearly every point in my hair’s lifecycle, I was told I should do something else with it, wear it some way other than how I liked it at that moment, because another person would prefer MY hair their way. I was told I was too old to experiment with colors, that it wasn’t professional. All unsolicited and absolute nonsense. Because, for every ‘eww/yuck,’ there was a ‘your hair is fabulous.’
Continuing with the physical, I’m not a person who often shows a ton of skin. But sometimes, my choice of clothing reveals that I have a few tattoos. I recall one time at a gala fundraising event for my job, I chose a strapless dress, paired with a classic updo for my hair. I was having a lovely conversation with a guest in my line at the registration table, face to face. A question they asked required me to turn around to pick something up for them. This person who had been so lovely to my face, gasped and said aloud,“ugh, well THAT’S trashy, it ruins the whole look!” When MY upper back was shown to not be the pristine skin they would prefer. They took what I had handed them and walked away, glaring over their shoulder with the eww/yuck look. The person next in line apologized and asked me all about it saying they always wanted tattoos but were too scared to get one.
How about more of a less permanent aesthetic example, hmm? I adore a vintage look. I spent a not insignificant amount of time in social circles, claiming to be inclusive, that did as well. I – or anyone really – could be impeccably dressed, made up, hair done, the whole shebang, for an event. For every compliment, there was an insult or backhanded comment dished out. Well that’s not TRUE vintage. That looks like a costume. You and a million other people got that look straight from Amazon. There would often be whole groups of people passing judgement on anyone who didn’t meet their ideal of what someone should look like to be at this event. But I still will say I met some amazing people, despite such eww/yuck reactions from a small (but loud) segment.
And now for something a bit more intangible: personality, life choices, etc. As a forty-something, heterosexual, single female, I am constantly asked rather inappropriate questions by, or hear comments and suggestions from, well-meaning individuals about improving my life. To be perfectly clear, the improvements are most often ways in which I can align myself better to the ideal woman’s role of wife and mother. A role I do not at all identify with. Let’s face it, if I haven’t drank that kool-aid by now, honey, it ain’t happening. So things like telling me how if I stopped doing this or started doing that I could get a man, and how much easier my life would be with him in the house to take care of me and fix things; saying I will regret not having children, and couldn’t possibly mean it when I say I have no intentions of getting married, and a thousand other variants of these things isn’t cute, appreciated, or necessary. I won’t change my mind about who I am and what I want because it doesn’t align with your opinion. No one should have to for anyone, or any reason. I can take care myself, and the home I purchased for myself, by myself. I am enough; it’s a shame you can’t see that.
For all of the times we laughed at the dinnertime eww/yucks, even the times I actually thought it of the things that were on the menu, I’m grateful the idea didn’t stick. I can experience something and decide ok, that’s not for me without the compulsion to tell others it shouldn’t be for them either simply because I don’t like it. All of this to say, I recognize and appreciate we are each different. From what we like to eat, to how we like to look, to who we spend our time with (or don’t) and how, to the choices we make for ourselves, big and small. No amount of eww/yuck attitude from anyone should deter us from being who we are and enjoying the hell out of the time we’ve got, no matter what’s on the menu.
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Kitchie Ohh is a full-time professional fundraiser who has worked with a number of health and human services nonprofits in the Philadelphia area over the last 20 years. She found her passion for modeling after a pinup-style photoshoot in 2013. Since then, she has worked with many talented photographers, stylists, hair and makeup artists in a variety of styles. She has been featured in- and on the covers of – multiple print and digital publications. Over the years, she has branched out from pinup studio modeling to serve as a figure model for live sketching, walked a runway, and was part of two campaigns for Philadelphia designer K. Vaughn.
In addition to her philanthropy-focused career, she has volunteered with art, historical, and community organizations, and even the events team of a local brewery for a while, pre-pandemic.
You’re just as likely to find her whipping up something deliciously plant-based in her kitchen or knitting a sweater as you are to find her on a photography set. Her motto is “be both.” The model and the homemaker, sultry and sweet, serious and silly. All the things, all at once.
As a young girl, we all have dreams… Dreams of our life in the future. Who will I marry, where will I live, what will I be, who will I be???
With models like Cindy Crawford, Christie Brinkley, Christy Turlington, that was what I wanted to be. As my teenage years approached, I wasn’t tall enough, I wasn’t skinny enough, I didn’t have the right look. Though I would not be a super model, I would find other ways to quench that desire.
Remember before the internet,the books that women used to look at in the hair salon to pick their next hair style? You could find me in there. Or maybe in the window of a department store as a live display, did that too… Shows at night clubs to display an artist’s design.. Though not a super model, I had fun with what I could do.
In my early twenties, I posed for Tony Ward for the first time. Believe it or not, I was the first model he used a digital camera to photograph in 2003.
Nowhere we are, 20 years later and he asked me to pose again. I was more than excited to work with him a second time around, and honored to be the model for his January 2023 homepage.
The day of the photo shoot, December 14, 2022, I went and had my make-up done.My nerves grew as I drove to Tony’s studio. Getting lost twice on the way did not help. When I arrived Tony greeted me with a big hug. I knew right then I was in good hands.
KVaughn, a fashion designer who also was creative director on the shoot brought a trunk full of jewelry,scarves, fabrics, and dresses. Using what he and I brought, K Vaughn put my looks together. He is full of energy and so fun and creative to work with.
We all made our way over to Tony’s new studio, which is in his back yard in Elkins Park. For the next three hours we had such a great time. Working with Tony, K Vaughn, and photo assistant Anthony Colagreco was so much fun. Once again, I was Tony’s first.. First model he shot in his new studio.
Editor’s Note: Norma Rae Jeans hair and makeup was styled by the Blow Dry Bar in Cherry Hill, New Jersey. Styling by KVaughn.