Boom, mother fucker. Spring’s technically finally here but we don’t trust Cunter Nature. (By the way, has anyone noticed that we’ve changed her name to something much more crass? Because no one has so much as mentioned it. Amelia included.) And why would we trust C-Natty after that violent winter and the avalanches that came with it? Hell no. So instead of actually shopping, we sketched highbrow renderings of who we want to be if and when spring actually shows itself. Consider us the Bernard Buffets of fashion, spring, and spring fashion.
Charlotte: Somehow I have accrued a stash of patterned vintage midi skirts and I’m finally putting them to good use. Cloaking my top half will most likely be a lightweight sweater or if I’m feeling extra funky, a crop top.
I am also currently sporting a lone mini gold hoop — you know, because I’m a pirate — but once this freshly-pierced shit heals I’ll be changing it a la Phoebe Philo who, at her latest show show, yelled “I support your random piercing spot, but please put a huge ass dangly motherfucker in there like you just don’t care.” And that, my friends is a direct translation. I’m fluent in French.
Amelia: Oops I didn’t understand the assignment and drew my outfits for SUMMER. Regardless. My spring/sum look is all about minimalism because if there’s one thing I hate, it’s thinking about things, and if there’s another thing I hate, it’s getting dressed. Simple tunic-y tops, low-slung board shorts, cropped pants and easy button down short-sleeved shirts plus slide sandals or anything I can shuffle in for my feet — that’s the life for me. Even if I freeze until July.
Amelia on Leandra’s Sketch: My talented friend here is apparently looking forward to spring’s biggest trend of porcupine feet and rabbit-ear ass. She’ll pair everything with a tissue box around her chest, and develop an alarming case of swollen airplane cankles for good measure. Looking good, sisterhood!
Leandra: I am sorry Amelia ‘asshead’ Diamond, but have you ever heard of this one painter who was relatively well known for distorting the human silhouette? His name was Picasso, he was big in Japan, and just because he didn’t actually draw skirts over pants and cropped blouses and round framed sunglasses but rather, thought about them romantically and allowed his distorted albeit beautiful renderings to speak for their character, does not mean they are any less important than the (fine, eloquently) drawn, taken-at-face-value illustrations that Charlotte and you have mocked up. In what world does it become my fault that your hands are steadier than mine?
But really. Tissue box chests. Think about it, people!
And fine, so I threw in the towel and commissioned help from Habile Buston, but I still stand behind my highly esoteric artistic capabilities. Happy spring, and I hope Amelia chokes on pencil shavings.
Now tell us/show us/draw us what YOU plan to wear!