So, hiatus over. Moving on.
I am not a fashionista. I have gone days - DAYS wearing the same ratty sweatshirt and sweatpants, snarling at anyone in a better outfit (meaning anyone), and blowing cigarette smoke in their faces. Those were the dark College Days we do not speak of any longer.
I love clothes, and since I lost the weight I think I've become a fairly decent dresser. And I really love clothes. As in, I get glazed eyes when I pass Zara's, and have been known to squeal in public at the sight of a cute skirt.
I also know what's ugly, and what doesn't make sense. So, seriously, what the everloving FUCK is going on with these boots?
These bother me more then those heel-less shoes Victoria Beckham has been wearing, because A) They still look like shoes, just shoes that defy the laws of physics, and B) I have decided that Victoria Beckham is my new girl-crush, and I want her to take me shopping and introduce me to her stylist, then when she isn't looking I will BRAIN her with the boot pictured above, and me and David Beckham will run into the sunset, me clutched in his muscular, tattooed arms.
Because, seriously, what the fuck am I supposed to think about these shoes? Either they are meant to brain random celebrities, or Urban Outfitters expects a lot of us to be slogging through pig shit on our way to work. I don't know. I DON'T UNDERSTAND WHAT THESE SHOES ARE ABOUT. THEY ARE UPSETTING.
I keep looking at the picture. I mean... it's like boots mated with jodpurs, and this is their hideous bastard child. I don't know anymore. I just don't know.
- LV
PS This is my sort-of tribute to The Fug Girls, because I want them to adopt me and cure me of my leggings fixation, and maybe help me get over Corey Feldman, or at least stop defending Quentin Tarantino's increasingly insane public behavior. Heather and Jessica, you kick all the ass and more.
I am not a fashionista. I have gone days - DAYS wearing the same ratty sweatshirt and sweatpants, snarling at anyone in a better outfit (meaning anyone), and blowing cigarette smoke in their faces. Those were the dark College Days we do not speak of any longer.
I love clothes, and since I lost the weight I think I've become a fairly decent dresser. And I really love clothes. As in, I get glazed eyes when I pass Zara's, and have been known to squeal in public at the sight of a cute skirt.
I also know what's ugly, and what doesn't make sense. So, seriously, what the everloving FUCK is going on with these boots?
These bother me more then those heel-less shoes Victoria Beckham has been wearing, because A) They still look like shoes, just shoes that defy the laws of physics, and B) I have decided that Victoria Beckham is my new girl-crush, and I want her to take me shopping and introduce me to her stylist, then when she isn't looking I will BRAIN her with the boot pictured above, and me and David Beckham will run into the sunset, me clutched in his muscular, tattooed arms.
Because, seriously, what the fuck am I supposed to think about these shoes? Either they are meant to brain random celebrities, or Urban Outfitters expects a lot of us to be slogging through pig shit on our way to work. I don't know. I DON'T UNDERSTAND WHAT THESE SHOES ARE ABOUT. THEY ARE UPSETTING.
I keep looking at the picture. I mean... it's like boots mated with jodpurs, and this is their hideous bastard child. I don't know anymore. I just don't know.
- LV
PS This is my sort-of tribute to The Fug Girls, because I want them to adopt me and cure me of my leggings fixation, and maybe help me get over Corey Feldman, or at least stop defending Quentin Tarantino's increasingly insane public behavior. Heather and Jessica, you kick all the ass and more.
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