The Sequel

Looky, look! You would think that after last week's discourse upon my misguided judgment in wearing  short skorts in 38 degree weather I would geta' clue. But nothing has changed, nor will it ever. In truth, I don't dress this way to solidify my personal validation as a creative individual, but rather to annoy the hell out my parentals and the all the people–haters–who supply me with the DAILY glances of disapproval to further motivate my dissidence.

"You should try some of that haterade, it really might quench your thirst" [insert metaphorical burn].

Synonymous Slut Cuts

Before you go making stingy character assinations based on my apparent wears in temperatures not abiding and the extreme mini of the above skirt slash piece of shredded fabric barely concealing my lady bits, in my defense these photos were taking nearly a century ago in a more accommodating climate.

Context is forever relavant.

The Amorphisms

I should probably share these pictures with you before the cold gets to them and transforms the above jpegs obsolete. And we sure don't want that happening.

Thinking Pink

In honor of the commencement of October last...I don't know, Sunday; and the initiation of the celebrated month of breasts, I now share with you some of may fave articles of clothing to excite your passion for fundraising in the name of cancerous eradication efforts and pink. To get things straight, we are discoursing upon the actual color pink, not that of the collection secreted by Victoria. That's a whole 'nother story of truant phases I regret and would, therefore, be willing to forget.

How about a pink blazer? We know you've always wanted one. And even if you really don't, do the right thing and give it me, for free perhaps! I'm a size 4, but I'd prefer a size 6 in this instance. Sometimes I like to up the ante and and get more bang for your buck with the addition of a makeshift "boyfriend" effect to the deal. Not compelled to purchase? I might have forgot to mention my Birthday is in 22 days.  No, really. Thank you.

Cropzilla

In midriff exposing news, I'm exposing my midriff. Again. How much more exciting and consequently  tiresome can this reoccurring fashion be? I don't know you tell me, I was hoping you had a relative estimation.

Awkward.

Fashun: The Commentary

Yes, in fact I'm well aware of the fact that the infamous month of fashion is receding from of my/your/our rearview mirror, and yet, I had the audacity to evade yet a single comment upon the affair. In case you were wondering or even noticed.

Fashion week, or it's more politically correct verbiage fashun week, is the holy grail of all things wearable yet at my expense, unattainable and  highly dreamable. If that were a real thing.

A lot has happened in the past 3 weeks, all of which I have little to no incentive, desire or intention to recap upon each and every of 300+ Fashun Showz that took place this September, if only for your sake and my sanity. But as an amateur blogger I'm almost 96% sure it's in the deed of my writ to URL ownership to "fill you in", even if told in all the glory of my biased and prematurely cultivated intellect.

Instead of reviewing show after show of masterful, ornate, pee-your-pants-worthy displays of beautifully crafted art–not even clothing, art–with tedious slivers of wit and invalid commentary, imma show you my 4 of my fave collections, and call it an afternoon. This way, we can get the point as quickly and as painlessly as possible with as little remorse in your in our mutual grief in absence to such event. If it makes you feel any better, I like pretend the my Stella McCartney SS14 invite got lost on the mail.

Remember when we played that game ages ago when I had to summarize my thoughts upon an item of clothing two sentences or less and then I took liberty of constructing a loosely based interpretation of that rule and wrote practically two paragraphs per photo? Well, let's do it again!