never washes her face.

Betsey Johnson pants; American Eagle t-shirt

It was recently relayed into me (in fervent text message form, via both my mother and my sister, my family has priorities) that Betsey Johnson is going out of business.   This is sad news.  This lady's stuff is sort of a fixture in my wardrobe history; I dig the line of femininity she walks between supersaccharine and a little coked out, and how she is equally appropriate for a high schooler at their homecoming dance and a twenty something at a wedding...two things I have been/will be while wearing her clothing.  To me BJ means cupcake dresses, peplum-before-it-was-cool, ruffles, lace, patterns with guns on them, and signature Marilyn Monroe cropped sweaters.  Point: I dig her (see this dress) (this swim suit) (and this sweater) and am sad that the neon pink stores are closing their doors for good.

In an act of mourning, I wore some sick silk Betsey pants the other day and ran about in the heat.

This is a dead squirrel.

I don't know.  Seemed topical.  Sorry.