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offthrack · 22 days ago

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⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀the official sugar honey iced tea tour lookbook

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀© 𝑝𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑑 𝑏𝑦 𝐆𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐄.

rising rap star 𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐄 served countless memorable looks on her first headlining tour this fall! styled by the infamous 𝑛𝑎𝑣𝑦 𝑟𝑜𝑒, the artist's looks range from custom to archival — with a signature style that reflected the feel of the tour and showcased her personality and southern upbringing in a fun, vibrant way.

an undeniable and overarching theme of the 𝐒.𝐇.𝐈.𝐓. 𝑡𝑜𝑢𝑟 ensembles is that they take us to the countryside of the dirty south, where hunting culture influences fashion. animal; print, fur, skin... the rapper sported different textures and fabrics across the 22-night tour embodying her deeply planted 𝓖𝑒𝑜𝑟𝑔𝑖𝑎𝑛 roots.

fur coats from 𝑠𝑒𝑘𝑠 at her toronto show, 𝑘𝑖𝑚 𝑠ℎ𝑢𝑖 faux fur adorning her arms in connecticut, and even got her hands on some exclusive threads from 𝑠𝑝5𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑙𝑑𝑤𝑖𝑑𝑒 with a cow print jacket in arizona.

her houston crowd saw her serve the look she coins 'country Cruella', featuring a custom body length printed trench coat from 𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐂𝐄 𝑑𝑒𝑛𝑖𝑚 and matching vail bra. not to mention the 𝑫𝒊𝒐𝒓 cowboy boots to top off the outfit's western vibe.

revice wasn't the only custom denim that made an appearance on the sold out tour — it seems the 𝐴-𝑡𝑜𝑤𝑛 native can't get enough of a jean look. vintage 𝐴𝑝𝑝𝑙𝑒 𝐵𝑜𝑡𝑡𝑜𝑚𝑠 and a full body custom from 𝑷𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒆𝒕 𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒐𝒃 are but a few of her delicious denim collection; her custom belted jeans from @/trendyguy.inc on ig have gone viral twice since their debut at the los angeles date!

one thing each of 𝑆𝑝𝑖𝑐𝑒'𝑠 carefully chosen tour costumes has in common is they're all fitted. her lyric '𝑠𝑢𝑝𝑒𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑐𝑘, 𝑔𝑜𝑡𝑡𝑎 𝑡𝑎𝑖𝑙𝑜𝑟 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑚𝑦 𝑑𝑒𝑛𝑖𝑚' rings true as each custom made piece hugs her curves and hides almost nothing from the audience. what better way to show off her hourglass figure than with leather ﹠ latex.

the rapstress wowed her halloween crowd in brooklyn with a latex 𝑃𝑙𝑎𝑦𝑏𝑜𝑦 𝐵𝑢𝑛𝑛𝑦 costume custom made by 𝑔𝑎𝑟𝑜 𝑠𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑜 — paired with chic 𝒃𝑜𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑔𝑎 𝑣𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑡𝑎 knee highs as she rapped across the stage. but she let it all hang out in ohio, and it paid off. the mixed leather lace up top from 𝑠𝑒𝑘𝑠 and 𝑚𝑎𝑡𝑡𝑒 𝑏𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑑 low risers she wore at her sixth sold out show in cincinnatti had comments raging across tiktok and instagram asking where to purchase.

even though many of her outfits arguably ran a little dark (don't get us wrong, we love a lady in black!), 𝑆𝑝𝑖𝑐𝑒 incorporated captivating splashes of color into her wardrobe that reminded us how cute she is. besides the bold latex 𝑘𝑖𝑚 𝑠ℎ𝑢𝑖 set, the rapper looked darling in her soft pink bodysuit from ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑠𝑒𝑜𝑓𝑗𝑚𝑐 , matching 𝑣𝑒��𝑒𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑠 bomber jacket and shiny pina cuissarde boots from 𝑎𝑙𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑝𝑎𝑢𝑙.

this lookbook would be incomplete without the note that nearly everyone's outfit hit. whether self or fan proclaimed, cheetah print has become trademark of 𝑆𝑝𝑖𝑐𝑒'𝑠 brand — and it showed this tour! social media went wild for this decked out leopard print corset set from 𝒂𝒍𝒆𝒋𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒓𝒐 𝒄𝒐𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 and 𝑗𝑒𝑛𝑛𝑖𝑓𝑒𝑟 𝑙𝑒'𝑠 tracy boot. traffic to both sites has reportedly ramped up over 150% in the last 7 days.

you can shop any of the mentioned looks through the links above.

#tour.#fits.

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offthrack · 2 months ago

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𝕾𝑢𝑔𝑎𝑟 𝕳𝑜𝑛𝑒𝑦 𝕴𝑐𝑒𝑑 𝕿𝑒𝑎 Tour - NIGHT ONE

As the overhead lights in the Yuengling Center sunset, leaving but a single shining halo center stage, Naomi was petrified. The first show of her first headlining tour, and of course, the woman finds herself back in Florida. It's not the oxymoronic overindulgence of Ocean Drive's opulent storefronts and rampant beach bum population, but she'd spent enough time in the city of Tampa to feel just as at home. The crowd buzzed in the darkness, and she could hear the rumble of their anticipation seeping in like a slow-building thunderstorm. She swore she could feel their excitement tingling through the air, lacing its way through the adrenaline pumping in her veins, making her fingertips hum.

The opening choral sequence to Georgia Peach chimed and suddenly the cup lights at the edge of the stage blazed a fiery orange hue, smoke spraying out amongst the crowd as the beat came in and the rapper could be heard offstage. "Georgia Peach, put me somewhere on a gorgeous beach. But I'm right here in the hood—but I'm right here in the hood. Posted wit' niggas that's up to no good." And when she emerged from behind the curtain, fully dripped out in custom 𝐶ℎ𝑟𝑖𝑠ℎ𝑎𝑏𝑎𝑛𝑎, the deafening cheers almost brought her to tears. She bopped her head along as the audience screamed the lyrics back at her, unable to conceal the smile painted on her softly glammed visage as she stared out into the sea of faces. The stage's screens flashed clips from the song's iconic music video, including outtakes and polaroids from the set.

"I'm with the boys in the hood right now, I'm feelin' like—" She put the crowd to the microphone, using a free hand to dare them to get louder. "Lookin' like—" Reaching a hand up to her breastbone at the mention of Jessica Rabbit, she seamlessly continued her flow, carrying her through the next two verses with a fervor she'd never put forth before. There was something to prove—since becoming independent she needed to show the world, but mostly herself, that she could still make it. Watching her own fans singing along to the crowd was more than cathartic, it was the proof she'd been searching for.

As the track began to fade, with Naomi posing amidst her dancers as they formed around her, a large peach flashed across the screen reading "Sugar Honey Iced Tea Tour" and the starlet raised her hand gleefully to wave and blow kisses to the growing applause.

The memory of dirt roads and the sweet scent of peaches lingered in her mind as she paced the stage, like ghosts she'd invited in for a celebration. Naomi felt her younger self right there with her, holding her breath just as she had when she used to daydream about these very moments, and she could almost feel the red clay dust still clinging to her shoes. She rapped as if there was a whole choir of her past selves backing her up—each one with more grit and fire than the last. By the time the track began to fade, she struck a pose amidst her dancers, who gathered around her like a living sculpture. A giant peach flashed across the screen, emblazoned with "Sugar Honey Iced Tea Tour," and Naomi raised her hand gleefully to wave and blow kisses to the applause.

"Waddup, Tampa, Florida!!! I feel right at home. Welcome to the Sugar Honey Iced Tea Tour! We gon' have some fun tonight, okay? I'm finna take y'all drivin' through Atlanta—through my life with me tonight, if that's okay," she drawled with a playful flick of her wrist, the Southern lilt adding a honeyed warmth to her words. The lights dimmed briefly, and the crowd's roar swelled again as they anticipated the next song. Naomi's heart raced, but it was no longer from nerves—it was from the exhilaration coursing through her, carrying her like a wave as she navigated through the next few songs in her setlist, There She Go & Blick Sum, with the same impassioned flow. It wasn't until the intro to No Hook that her stomach sank.

"I got money and my own family started actin' funny. I don't trust nobody, keep it on me. I swear they always told me that the top would be lonely. Two year relationship, that nigga really owe me." As the bassline pounded in sync with her heartbeat, Naomi prowled across the stage, her voice dropping to a grittier tone that made each word land heavy in the air. The song's raw energy matched the pulse of her memories—the tough nights when sleep was a luxury and hunger a constant companion. The lyrics tore from her throat with a rasp as she delivered each bar like it was a testament to every setback she’d ever endured as she reminisced on her past relationship with Suge. She felt every glance exchanged in the shadows of smoky clubs, every side-eye at the studio, every declaration that she would be shelved with all the other "burnout rap girls" all rolled into a singular momentum driving her forward now. "Dropped ten bands to beat a case that I ain't do; how the fuck they book me for some shit wit' no proof?" The crowd's chant grew louder with every line, matching her intensity beat for beat, like they could feel that fight bubbling up inside her as she entered the second verse.

She could see faces contorted in shared defiance, feel the urgency in the way bodies moved in the pit, and it was like she was laying every demon bare under the strobe lights. As the second verse hit, Naomi threw her hands up and let herself sink into the beat, her braids swinging like the wild arc of a pendulum. The crowd sang along with her, the sheer volume of their voices enough to make her skin prickle. It was as if the universe had folded in on itself, bringing her back to those times when "No Hook" was just a jumble of phrases on a scrap of paper—back before the triumphs, the tears, and the heartbreaks. She wasn’t just performing; she was purging, spilling her truths into every syllable until she could breathe a little easier. "Work hard and pray harder, bitch, that's all I know."

"How y'all feelin'? 'Cause you look damn good singing my shit back to me. You know, i been doubted my whole career; even now, I deal with people tellin' me what's not gonna sell and who I should be brown-nosing to get somewhere. But luckily, it ain't the muhfuckers that sign my checks anymore. What can I say, though? Guess that's the price to pay for bein' so young and so damn rich." The midsection of the setlist brought the energy to a fever pitch as Naomi tore through the gritty anthems Youngest N Richest and Settle Down, her voice dripping with a blend of swagger and defiance. The stage visuals shifted to bold graphics of neon lights and luxury cityscapes, echoing the themes of ambition and hustle in her lyrics. With Housekeeping Knows, the vibe turned playful, and Naomi's quick-witted bars had the crowd laughing along as she spun clever lines about wealth and indulgence. As Back Outside kicked in, firing off her verse as the pyrotechnics on the stage sounded off, spraying sparklers into the air. A subtle shift began to take place; the beat softened, and Naomi's delivery became more reflective. She paced slowly across the stage, her tone changing from boastful to something deeper as she addressed a life that wasn’t always this glamorous. It was the perfect transition, signaling that the set was moving from street anthems into a more intimate space with Liquor, Look What You Did—which she performed with her opener Emerie— & Prized Possession.

When Muwop dropped, the crowd erupted as Naomi reminded them of the song that really put her on the map. The booming basslines and Gucci Mane’s recorded verse filled the arena, creating a palpable sense of nostalgia. Her mind wandered to those nights in the Miami studio, when the air was thick with heat and uncertainty. She remembered pouring everything into this track, not knowing that the rollout budget was quietly bleeding out behind the scenes. Back then, it was just her and the mic, rapping like her life depended on it because, in many ways, it did. The memory of that desperation fueled her performance, each word hitting harder as if to say she was reclaiming every dollar and every missed opportunity. As the song reached its climax, Naomi raised her mic high and let the audience scream the chorus back at her, their voices blending into a singular roar that reverberated through the arena.

The transition into Copper Cove felt like a sigh after the storm. The dreamy beat washed over the arena, and Naomi let her voice slip into a sultry croon, the rough edges smoothing out as she moved with a languid grace. She thought of warm nights spent with nothing but the sound of the ocean (and her then-lover) to keep her company—how that place always felt like the border between what was and what could be. As she sang, her words painted a picture of moonlit secrets and salt-laden breezes, a whispered longing for something just out of reach. Her hips swayed to the beat as if she were back on those sugar-soft sands, and for a moment, it felt like the whole arena had been transported to that hidden cove with her.

When the unmistakable beat of B*tch From Da Souf - Remix dropped, the crowd went wild, recognizing the debut single that had catapulted Naomi into the spotlight. She strutted across the stage with fierce confidence, spitting the opening lines with the same raw grit that had always been her signature. The lyrics spilled out like fire, every word delivered with the unapologetic attitude that defined her rise. The arena echoed with the chants of thousands of voices, hyped and hungry for the verse-by-verse aggression that had put Naomi on the map. As the stage lights flared in rhythmic bursts, she could feel the energy surging from the pit to the nosebleeds, buzzing with anticipation. Then, right as she hit the second verse, the music cut for a brief, breathless moment—and the air seemed to crackle with expectation.

Suddenly, Saweetie burst onto the stage, her voice slicing through the sudden silence as she jumped right into her verse. The crowd erupted into chaos, their screams blending into an uproar that echoed through the arena. It wasn’t just the surprise of seeing Saweetie perform live; it was the fact that no one had seen the two women together since rumors of their beef began circulating over a month ago. The falling out had been public and messy, especially since they'd once been so close—practically inseparable both on and off stage. Their friendship had seemed unbreakable, which made the whispers of tension all the more shocking. But now, here they were, side by side once more, spitting bars like they hadn’t skipped a beat. The crowd could barely contain themselves, phones shooting up in unison to capture the moment that had seemed impossible just hours ago.

Naomi's grin stretched wide as she hyped Saweetie up, bouncing in rhythm while the two played off each other’s energy, rapping along her lines like no bad blood had ever existed. It felt like a release—not just for the rappers, but for the fans caught up in the drama. As they hit the final bars, the tension in the room seemed to dissolve into pure euphoria, replaced by a tidal wave of applause that nearly drowned out the music. The two rappers finished the last line together, their voices rising in a triumphant harmony, before turning to face each other. Naomi gave Saweetie a playful shove, then pulled her into a tight hug, sealing the moment with a high-five that sent the crowd into yet another uproar. It wasn’t just a performance; it was a statement—a bold declaration that their bond was stronger than any rumor or riff, and the hit that had started it all was still as powerful as ever. "Everybody put yo' fucking hands together for the beautiful, talented, amazing Saweetie! My girl forever, with or without the industry bullshit. You deserve yo' flowers just as much as any bitch spittin'. Thank you for coming out tonight." She spoke praises of her close friend before they shared yet another hug, giving her an individual round of applause. "One more for my girl!" The crowd was eating up every second of the rekindling, reaching decibels of sound that would surely make her eardrums bleed if she didn't have her headset in.

As the show reached its final stretch, the energy soared higher with each passing beat. Brokey, the lead single off Naomi’s latest album, turned the arena into a raucous party. The newly released music video had already made waves, and the live performance brought the visuals to life with bursts of neon lights and sharp, synchronized dance moves that had the crowd roaring in approval. Naomi commanded the stage, rapping with a fire that seemed to burn brighter the longer the night went on, feeding off the crowd's unyielding energy. There was a defiance in her eyes as she spat each lyric, every line a reminder of the grind that took her from the Atlanta streets to a headlining tour. She reveled in the chaos, the bass rattling the floor beneath her feet like a pulse.

The momentum carried into Sunday Service, a track that transformed the space into something almost reverential. Naomi's verses hit like a preacher's sermon, and the crowd responded with fervor, hands raised as if seeking a blessing. It was a seamless transition into Chicken Grease, the bonus track that had become a sleeper hit. The fans loved it, and their enthusiasm was undeniable as they belted out the chorus alongside Naomi, who leaned into the mic with a sly grin. The song's playful beat bounced throughout the venue, and the atmosphere felt less like a concert and more like a block party. By the time she launched into Put It On Da Floor, the crowd was ready to explode. The track, born from a long-squashed beef with a Love & Hip Hop star, served as both a victory lap and a reminder that she didn’t shy away from confrontation. Naomi didn't just perform; she threw every jab with a swagger that showed she had long since left the drama in the dust, the past now nothing more than fuel for her art.

As the electric haze of Put It On Da Floor faded away, the stage lights dimmed, and the tone shifted as Naomi stepped to the edge of the stage. The crowd buzzed in anticipation as the slow, soulful intro of Big Mama began to play. The first half of the track showcased Naomi's versatility, her voice weaving smoothly over the rich melody, rapping about the complexities of balancing ambition with her roots. The beat gradually intensified, and with it, her delivery sharpened into something bold and unrelenting. By the time the second half kicked in, Naomi was back in full throttle, her verses hitting hard as the bass thumped through the speakers. She prowled the stage with a fierce determination, spitting rapid-fire lines that had the crowd on their feet, the atmosphere charged with a renewed sense of urgency. It was a declaration of strength and a reminder that she was never one to be underestimated, carrying the energy forward as the night drew toward its powerful conclusion.

The final song, S/O to Me, brought the night to a triumphant close. The beat swelled, and Naomi’s voice rose with it, her verses cutting through the air with pride and gratitude. This wasn’t just a shoutout to herself, but to everyone who’d doubted her, every struggle she’d overcome, and every win she’d fought for. Her lyrics served as a victory anthem, reflecting on her growth and the lessons learned along the way. With every line, she poured her heart into the mic, and the fans felt it, chanting the chorus back at her with the same pride. As the final notes played out, Naomi stood at center stage, arms stretched wide as if to embrace the crowd one last time. The cheers swelled into a roar, and she took a deep breath, letting the magnitude of the night wash over her. It was more than a performance; it was a show of everything she had become—and a promise of everything yet to come. "I'on play about us, I do this for me and everything that I was, nigga. This shoutout for me,—" she allowed the crowd to sing the final line back to her, nodding both to them and herself as gratitude washed over her.

"Thank y'all for coming out tonight! This has been the best first show I could'a ever imagined. Tampa, you'll always be famous. . . Goodnight!"

As the final notes of S/O to Me echoed through the arena, Naomi took a moment to soak in the applause, her chest heaving from the adrenaline and emotion of the night. She offered one last wave, then turned and disappeared behind the stage curtain. But the fans weren’t ready to let her go. Almost immediately, a chant began to rise from the crowd, low at first, then swelling louder and louder: "Spice! Spice! Spice!" It was Naomi's nickname, the one her fans had coined for her fiery spirit and bold style. The chants reverberated through the venue, growing more intense with each passing second, until they were an undeniable demand.

From backstage, Naomi could hear the roar calling her back, and a sly smile spread across her lips. She wasn’t about to leave them hanging. With a quick nod to her team, and an outfit change, she grabbed her mic and headed back out. The stage lights flickered to life once more as she emerged to a deafening cheer, the crowd's excitement vibrating through the air. "I guess y’all ain’t ready to go home yet, huh?" she teased, her voice amplified over the rumbling cheers. The beat for H&M began to roll out, a hauntingly familiar rhythm that resonated with every person in the room. As she dove into the lyrics, she locked eyes with the front row, delivering the first verse with palpable intensity. “I don’t fight for shit that’s mine,” she declared, her voice slicing through the energy of the crowd. “Only whinin’ if I’m dinin’!”

The audience roared back, fully in sync with her unfiltered confidence. As the beat thumped, Naomi leaned into her next verse, full blazes firing up from the pyros as she stomped out each bar. “Like, bitch, I let you keep your nigga, what else do you want from me?” The crowd erupted, feeling the playful shade and the camaraderie between artist and fans as they all did her signature What the fuck? adlib. The air was electric as she rapped with a ferocity that left no room for doubt—this was her moment, and she was owning it. By the final chorus, Naomi’s voice soared over the swelling beat, wrapping the crowd in one last powerful moment of connection. As the song drew to a close, she held the mic out towards the audience, letting their voices carry the final lines. Naomi gave one last triumphant wave, blowing kisses and thanking the crowd as she stepped back into the shadows. The lights faded, and the arena buzzed with the echo of cheers, leaving a lasting sense of triumph in the air. It was the perfect ending, a night that began with nerves and ended with an electric sense of unity, reminding everyone—especially Naomi—that this journey was only just beginning.

#tour.

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