Saturday, April 20, 2013

houston train.

American Apparel chambray sleeveless; Forever 21 Sweater; Zara skirt; Hue tights; Dolce Vita loafers (I realize these are absent for you. I'm just saying); vintage necklace; MAC lipstick in Bronze
Wanna know the realest thing?  The realest thing is suuuuper al dente (by accident) pasta shells, with store bought sauce, and mulitcolored grape tomatoes that you sliced into little wedges, eaten out of a giant coffee mug with a spoon in front of back to back episodes of Parks and Rec.  Hi, I'm 22, who are you?

Today I looked decidedly not 22, I will say, if only because the ensemble I chose to adorn my body with was eerily similar to my high school uniform.  We did not have a chambray polo option, nor highlighter pink as a sweater choice, but the gist was the same.  Flouncy.  Modest.  Easy.  I looked (or maybe just felt? but probably looked) 15.  

Bouncers at bars sometimes tell me I still look 15.  So.  Grain of salt, I guess.

Additionally, I wore gold lipstick.  It faded significantly by the time the above picture was taken -- it looked a little more like this -- and after polling all male figures in my life, found that it was universally loathed.  Responses ranged from "I hate that, never do that again," to "You look............... Egyptian."  The problem is I just really like it a lot; it makes me feel a teensy bit like Ke$ha, which is the maximum amount of Ke$ha that anyone should be.  

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