Archive for the ‘XS Look’ Category

splice

splice

credits: rick owens lilies dress, premiata pumps

Go wester, young lady

go wester, young ladygo wester, young lady

zig and zag your way to paanie for mas

crap shot

A blurry photo does not a fashion blogger make / but is result when agoraphobe model take /                            worse off when photo seems fake / don’t lose yourself for popularity’s sake.

credits: antipodium like a prairie dress, opening ceremony spectators, carin wester x adax atlas clutch

stowaway

kickhatrun

Escape is a part of my psyche. I need it. I crave it. No matter where I am or what I’m doing, it always lingers, either hopeful or sinister.

It’s time for the magician’s final act. Swarthy, with a painted moustache, he rolls out his clunky contraption. Behind one mirrored door, his assistant awaits.

He has many rings on his fingers, they sparkle, diversion worthy. His bedazzled sausages waggle amidst unintelligible words. She’s gone, escaped onto her next adventure.

“Drat!” he thought.  “Now I must buy another.”

credits: untitled hat, asos pleated blouse, 7 for all mankind shorts, rachel comey penpal boots

filthy beach

filthy beach

MM and I went to Matador Beach a few weeks ago.  We got an early start and it was a beautiful day.  We laid out our blanket and shifted some of the seaweed away that had washed ashore. Tossed in with the seaweed, was some non-descript plastic, most notably a tampon applicator.

My head is crowded with so many thoughts — fanciful, depressing, idyllic, hopeful, honest, stupid, thoughts. They attack my peace relentlessly like a twitter feed, skipping from one topic to the next. There are only a few places I can go to turn off this incessant fodder . . . and one of my favorite places to go is the beach. Once I close my eyes and focus on the rhythm of the waves, my mind, if only for a moment, is still. I don’t think about ANYTHING.

So that day at Matador, I settled onto the blanket letting my weight sink into the sand. I closed my eyes. I listened as the waves started to pick up momentum. The noisy thoughts quieted and there was blankness. Until, something began to materialize. It was an unrecognizable shape, but as it came closer it was unmistakable. It was a tampon expertly coasting the waves on a surfboard. “Fuck youuuu!,” she cried.

credits: juicy couture bikini top, seafolly goddess eva skirted bottom, wildfox couture inside out cassidy tank, kenzo aviators