Zara sweater; unlabeled LF tank; Madewall pants; American Apparel hat; She. Was Wearing. Tory Burch flats.
GUYS I used to feel about hats the same way I felt about sunglasses. I thought: They are wonderful while one is in transit, you look very cool walking down the street, I wish I was you, I mentally photograph you for the Pinterest board in my brain called "Real People Looking Good in the World," but then you get to your indoor destination and you're like...what now? Do I hold this? In my hands? Can I put it here on the table? Will you remind me not to leave it here later? This was entirely unnecessary, why did I bring this, UGH regret.
Sometimes you just need to find the right version of an otherwise unnecessary object in order to make it, if not Very Necessary, at least Really Exciting To Have. A wise friend and I went shopping, and he convinced me to buy a pair of real sunglasses. Real like they cost more than five dollars. Real like they even sort of looked good. I had previously donned only massive plastic Target monstrosities, about which I was pretty ambivalent, and had therefore been remorseless in losing or sitting on every last pair. The new model demanded a higher level of respect, mostly because I really dug them. I did not ever forget them places because they were too cool to be without. I did not feel burdened by them because they turned me into a ninja spy.
That's how I feel about this hat. Its a little bit Coven-y. A little bit like what Wednesday Adams would get at Chevy's on her birthday. A little bit the stuff of dreams. And so far I have not left it anywhere.