The Mailman, Continued

I may have fabricated the truth a little bit when I said on Friday that there was a story line here. The only real story line goes like this: I wanted to style a turtleneck to rid predisposed fear of embracing the trend and in doing so, turned out an outfit I deemed perfectly suitable for work. Naomi, the photo man put down her lens and said "...what sort of work?" It was then that like an angel falling from the heavens, our resident mailman swung by. 

Does anyone really ever take time to speculate the importance of a mailman? He delivers your mail. Your mail. I know it doesn't seem as important as it used to. There are rarely love letters signed and sealed anymore. Most of that goes through e-mail, Craigs List, or...you know, Facebook's antiquated "Honesty Box." But what about the other things that still come via snail mail: jury duty summonings, bills, letters from your insurance company telling you your favorite doctors are no longer taking the aforementioned insurance. Fine, you're right, he's not important at all, that stupid mail devil. Which is why I set fire to his little rolling cart of death threats just moments after these photos were taken. 

See that? Merry and on my way. I'm so mailman chic. If I were going to a Halloween party this would be a wonderful storing device: my phone, my drink, my wallet, your kidneys. La di da di da, photos, photos, mail and fire. If these were captioned, this one would say, "Where's the closest fire hydrant?" But alas it is not. I just want to make that clear.

turtleneck: Vince, vest: Gryphon, pants: theyskens' theory, sunglasses: Ralph Lauren, shoes: Giuseppe Zanotti, clutch: Romygold. 
 All photos by Naomi Shon

...I'm just kidding, contrary to what the mischievous smile topping the above outfit photo may suggest, I didn't set anything on fire. I can see why you would think I did because I'm definitely not sane, but I'm also kind of insulted, people. I'm no criminal. Unless that is, you consider motivating hookers to dress more like pilgrims a crime. Ultimately though, if this entire fiasco (and by fiasco I mean the makeshift story brought to you by Man Repeller LLC,) taught me anything, it's that it is probably a damn good thing I decided to take the non-fiction route.