My mind gets all hazy and things that I have always hated seem so appealing and gorgeous (gorgeous!) And then when I get them I'm like..hmmm....I was wrong. So freaking wrong. Damn you stupid dowser stick of style!
I am not able to fit stylewise in any category. It's like a crippling feeling that chills my bones; I don't like girly, I don't do girly, and I generally hate girly. Always have. My mom used to braid my hair when I was a kid and then after countless attemps to make me look like a lamb of God, she gave up and took me to a hairdresser who styled my hair into a bowlcut 80s nightmare thing. I looked like a boy but at least I felt happy and free.
I don't like pastels, I mean I do, but I hate wearing them because my skin melts into those colours and it's like I become a monochrome walking thing.
I like black chelsea boots with some moderate heel, that make me look like a cuban pimp or something. I like black, navy, grey, camel and white. Those are my on rotation colors. I like pants .90s Ann Taylor pants. I like coats and jackets. I like 90s loungewear (spaghetti straps and grey sweatshirts). And I like silk, denim, wool and cotton.
I don't dig those huge drapey cardigans/sweaters. I mean stuff by Lauren Manoogian looks uber cool. On cool girls from the Lower East Side. But I hate that shit on me. I looked like a mummy when I tried one of those. Oh boy and they looked so good at Zara's online store. Zara copycats everything cool, so yeah you have a bunch of slouchy Spring knitwear these days. (Have I mentioned that I shop at Zara once a year? And then I always end up returning everything? Oh, A.P.C. you are so expensive but you love me and I love you...Forever.No, no shitty drapey cardigans for you and I. Thanks Parisian consignment shops.)
I don't dig the Stan Smiths on me. Oh, and the Adidas Gazelles, I wore those in the 90s when I was a teenager. Actually I hate trainers these days. I don't feel like myself when wearing trainers. I feel like an underdressed, overgrown idiot.
I think I will post food stuff and photos of fluffy kittens until I get my dowser stick of style back on.
Yeezus. Meanwhile I'll go back to my comfortable, monotonous and repetitive closet. For your sake and mine.