It seems like we’re always badgering you with questions and quietly praying that you’ll answer. For the most part, you’re a terrific audience. Your theories are smart, your comments well composed. But sometimes, when you go radio silent (we get it, we get it, you can’t spend your entire day refreshing this particular page on your browser, bla bla bla), we cry. Amelia starts throwing books at my head. Charlotte peels her fingernails back and I’ve already shoved three succulents up Kate’s ass in response to a paltry comment thread. No pressure or anything, but we feed on the level of your engagement.
The thing is, that’s kind of selfish, isn’t it? Maybe you have questions too. And maybe you need answers. From us. Which is precisely why today instead of pondering about the state of Instagram and your following, or street style stars and their bare legs in spite of dismal temperatures or likewise street style stars and the coats they so perfectly plant on their shoulders — we won’t even ask if you’d kill/fuck/marry Scott Disick again — we’re opening up the floor to let you ask us whatever the hell you want.
Hold nothing back, leave nothing in.
(No promises about tomorrow, though — we’ve spent a lot of time cogitating on how Beyoncé actually kept her recent album drop a secret and make no mistake, Amelia’s got conjectures about machine guns, paper machetes, Asian pears and the hair used to cloak the heads of Barbies from here until the end of 2015.)
But go ahead. Today, it’s just us and this here unadulterated communication forum.