On Baseball Caps and Their Moment
Yesterday was perhaps the first time since high school, when I was forced to write about compelling subjects best left just re-read not written, that an uncomfortable and unstoppable wave of writer’s block overcame my pee-wee brain. To combat it, I collaged a selection of Isabel Marant sneakers and asked the inevitable question: can I really say no to velcro? I hate to bring up Sex and the City again,
this will mark the third time in four days, but I think the plague of writer’s block was my stupid men as socks moment. And with that I’ll confirm that I’ve most certainly become a parody of myself. Since then, I’ve had time to sleep and can perhaps deliver a slightly more meaningful post that, oh I don’t know, may not deliver the gift of content to @whitegirlproblem.