On my body! Look at me, look at me, this is my predator face, look at me. No, really, I learned how to conjure up a predator face using my own facial features over the weekend. Apparently, this is what turns man repellers into getters though if you ask me it’s more asymmetrical weirdo with ambiguous smirk than anything. I digress though, here’s the motivation behind this post: I can really appreciate the color in question. I like corn, I like bananas, I like loose fit things. Why not combine the lights of my life and feast my legs on these. Reactions to the pants have included: McDonald Hamburgers–I’m still a bit fuzzy on this but I think understand the underlying sentiment–and are those supposed to fit like that.The fact of the matter is, yes. And I don’t eat hamburgers, so no.
Shortly thereafter I looked into the trenches of my closet and noticed that I really do like yellow. So I added a skirt and called it peplum because that’s what I do. I lost the predator face and before I continue I should have you know the wheels of brain are moving a bit slow this morning so I apologize for the lack of poetic prose and meaningful dialogue. This of course opens up the question, is the dialogue ever meaningful or prose poetic but I’m going to avoid having you answer that just ask that you please throw me a bone, I feel like a baby fetus just seeing day for the first time. Ya di, ya di ya, long story short: then there was a jacket.
And alas, while this didn’t intend to function as any sort of lesson in layering it seems it may have done just that if lessons in layering were actually just small baby tutorials for people who want to be overtly vocal about certain colors and theme their lives and exteriors by the boundaries of different Coldplay songs. Did I not make this clear earlier? Up next week: Clocks. Double-fisting watches: it was cool in the 80s, for a brief moment in the early thousands, why not re-penetrate the beauty of embracing different timezones from the simple comfort of your own wrist.