|Calvin Klein denim jacket, H&M jeans, secondhand aviators, Penguin belt, Guess? boots, Hanes tank top, various rings and necklaces from various places in Varietyland|
I've been starting a lot of my posts with apologies for my long periods of absence from blogging, usually referencing the "blogosphere", calling my readers "bbys", and doing a bunch of other weird shit that I feel has gotten really schtick-y. All of that has gotten really boring. You're not my babies/bbys, you're either relatively educated people who have an interest in how some 18-year-old that moved to Los Angeles views the world, you're some girl that accidentally got redirected here from a Tumblr reblog of some dumb pastel grunge bullshit and you need to leave right now, or you're someone that falls in the 178 degree gap those two extremes create. But you aren't my bby. You're a hot bitch. You're a glamazon. You're a seapunk if you want to be. You can love yourself if you want, love your brand, love all that. Or you can not, I'm really not qualified to tell you how to lead your life. No blogger is. You know who is qualified to guide you? A psychiatrist. I'm just here to tell you that I like to spray paint my hair Twitter Blue (Isn't it totally Twitter Blue? It's so Twitter Blue.) and over-accessorize, I'm not here to analyze your thought process.
A lot of the jewelry I'm wearing here was gifted by one of my favorite ride-or-die chicks, Madeline. Homegirl was doing some spring cleaning and she just decided she didn't want a bunch of REALLY GORGEOUS things. Shoes, necklaces, dresses, rings, like, no, guys, like, really, she's the most generous chick on the planet. I'm not about to get started on how much I love her. Like, if you're in the 11th hour and you're getting chased by a lion and your pet rabbit just died and you're starving and you're tripping out on some LSD and you're supposed to meet her for dinner and you're going to be late, she'll make it work.
Anyway, this outfit is seapunk, I guess. It's more sea-biker. Seapunk isn't even punk, I don't know, I'm an ocean biker. I'm King Triton, Leader of the Mer-biker Gang. Aquababe. The boots I'm wearing here are pretty much dead now, guys. I've talked about how they're my favorite pair, how I'd take a bullet for them, I think I made some pseudo-erotic references to them, like, I really enjoy them. The zipper broke on one of them, the whole thing is coming unraveled, and I just have no idea how to mend something like that. Well, I mean, I know I can get them repaired. But that costs money.
Guys, speaking of money, there's something about being another young brat that moves to L.A. and realizing that things are expensive that presents you with a series of options. You can a) give up and move back home with your parent(s), b) start selling Xanax to middle schoolers, c) get a sugar daddy/mommy, or d) embrace being broke and try to glamorize it. I'm not really interested in returning to Vegas, I don't have a Xanax prescription, I don't like when people pay my way, so I really was only left with living the Mary-Kate Olsen lifestyle sans actually having money. AND GUYS, IT ROCKS. NO, REALLY. I mean, it won't rock when I'm 40, but it rocks right now. Like, I get to eat 7-Eleven donuts every day. I get to meet opera singers on the Metro. I get to tear up my clothes into cooler clothes instead of buying new clothes and having a bunch of clothes that are just "cool", not "cooler". These jeans started as just a regular pair of denim jeans and after a few hours with a seam ripper, I turned them in babes. If jeans could be babes, I mean, these jeans are BABES. I know how tongue-in-cheek this is sounding, but it's legitimately awesome. I've always been relatively lower-income, but this is the first time in my life that it's been really fun.
Let me wrap this up by talking about the status of my blog. Depending on how quickly my hair grows back after my little scissor experiment this morning, I have a giveaway coming up soon. Of course, soon is always subjective, because I'm a moody bitch and I might hate blogging for another month after this. So that'll be an outfit post, then, I don't know where I want to take this blog. I'm bored with fashion blogging in the current position it's in. Fashion bloggers as a community are really blah. Like, really. BLAAAAH. So I don't know. I might just start making tutorials on how to glue things to your face or how to spray paint your hair tie-dye. Everything is just so blah.
So, in conclusion, love yourself, love your brand, or just do whatever the fuck you want.