Back At School

While I hail and envy the continuance of the much anticipated week of fashion that is upon us, meanwhile at school, a personally much, much, MUCH less anticipated fraction of a first week of September is similarly in the works.

I'm excited– if you couldn't tell already.

Yes yes, the esteemed first week o' school. One of which the likes of Teen Vogue and and Seventeen have dramatized overtly in the past several months climaxing to September 3rd when you arrive in style and almost instantaneously commence planning for mass escape in style.

But in other news not related to the actuality that besides this post I have two AP quests– you got it, not quite a quiz not, quite a test, a freaking quest– an AP English essay on Friday and some spanish bs to do, let's take a looksy at what I am wearing, or lack there of.

Furthermore, in things you don't wear to school or possibly ever in real life expect on the street of some bare midriff abiding NY street, likely traversing up the West Side toward the Lincoln Center, this outfit.

Remember that one time I didn't wear a shirt, wasn't that fun? Why not recreate that fun with a vintage bra (top) I borrowed slash stole from my mother. Throw in a snazzy jacket and some Not Your Boyfriends Jeans, and life is good. Your mother may or may not let you exit the house in such attire and I may or may not agree in her bias and seasoned decision making, but sometimes that's just how the motherfukin' cookie crumbles brah.

Get it, brah'? Becuz I'm technically not wearing appropriately concealed underclothes.

Vintage bralette, Mural Jacket, Gap jeans y Topshop velvet pimp shoes.

It's just me, making the best of September and the next 9 months of hell. In doing so with as few clothing garments as possible.