Kenzo dress, Maison Martin Margiela shoes. Three tone tent dress, one of which (tones) coyly manifesting under the thigh. Underthigh! When I looked at these photos after Naomi had shot them, all I could think was: gosh, my compass of repelling vs. getting is becoming manipulated by a deep rooted reluctance to pay attention to the latter. This is, as a social experiment harvested by the man behind the repeller mandated, a boner crusher. Not necessarily because of the dress even though it does read sack inspired skydiving device, but because, you see, there are eyelashes strapped to my toes. In any case, for the sake of sticking to what my editorial calendar said today would bring, figure this a getter of the most offensive sort. Now imagine what will happen when I layer.
And without offering a close look at the individual process of the piling, voila. Striped blouse, ripped jeans under dress, mens utility jacket over dress, and everyone’s favorite high end dust busters taken to the foot make the aforementioned man wish he were never born. And that’s it, that’s what today will offer you.