why is nobody wearing a coat?
i’m the nicest goddamn dame that ever lived.
do what? do me? sure!
but can i get some ground rules?
yesss sooo much better.
best thing i never had
just when things look darkest, they go black
curse at it, spit on it
a guide to dressing like an olsen twin
me:…oh, i don’t have any.
me:…i thought you meant we should get some.
irl irl irl (!)
I really wish I could be all cool, whatever, idk blasé about the fact that a ridiculously wonderful friend of mine asked me to be her plus one to the Derek Lam show on Sunday. But babes (babe babe babe), when you’ve been following new york fashion week from the comfort of your work computer for all the years you’ve ever even had a work computer and suddenly you’re only a hop, skip, and a jpeg away from three people who have been all up in your bookmarks since 2008, you kinda gotta f-thattitude. I mean, really. Holy high ass fashion, batman.
ps – jf, you are the f-ing tops. thank you sooooooo much.
buy a falconer’s glove.
approach the girl you like wearing the falconers glove.
ask her, “excuse me, have you seen a falcon fly by here?”
look up to the sky, hopeful / sad.
if she says, “no,” look distraught and ask her
if she wouldn’t mind helping you look for your falcon.
no human being would ever turn down an opportunity like this.
use the time you spend together searching for the falcon to get to know her.
at the end of your search (10 minutes) you will probably need consoling
re: the loss of your one true friend.
by this point her interest in you based on the fact that
you were able to put so much love and time into the raising of a falcon
will more than ensure a second date, and from there
it’s just a hop skip and a jump to marriage.
*NOTE..–..If by chance a falcon does appear out of nowhere, simply say, “[Falcon’s Name], I’ve missed you so much! Don’t ever scare me like that again!” Then offer to take the girl to dinner for helping you find your lost falcon. Bonus: You just got a free falcon!
Linda Evangelista & Christy Turlington. Comme des Fuckdown
woke up this morning
with an old school attitude.
wanna ditch with me?
things that make living here more than okay:
listening to paul simon while getting from point a to b
breaking the code to trader joe’s (8am m-f; 9pm f/sa)
finding this glam as fuck photo of mk in my old apt*
* not really, but the dirt and door look eerily familiar.
Nash Nachman Watches. Kyle Poff
are you real?
what are you wearing?
can i come over?
“His dashing looks & personality made him racing’s golden boy, the fans loved him. He had a commanding presence and spoke impressively in a deep voice with a cultivated accent, saying exactly what he thought. He hated dressing up – wearing old blue jeans and often walking around in his bare feet, even on formal occasions. He drank heavily, smoked two packs a day, experimented with drugs, partied hard, and enjoyed the ladies. He married one of them, Suzy Miller, a fashion model who eventually left him for the actor Richard Burton. Burton was so enthralled with her, he even offered to pay Hunt’s divorce settlement to Suzy: $1 million. Burton couldn’t believe that Hunt was so casual about letting his beautiful wife go. Hunt simply said, ‘Relax, Richard. You’ve done me a wonderful turn by taking on the most alarming expense account in the country.'”
100% the same. borna
“Your awkward/repulsive stage will pass. In the meantime, here’s what you need to do: worry less about getting your young teenage self laid and start thinking about getting your eighteen or twenty year old self laid. Join a gym and get yourself a body that girls will find irresistible, read — read books — so that you’ll have something to say to girls (the best way to make girls think you’re interesting is to actually be interesting), and get out of the house and do shit — political shit, sporty shit, arty shit — so that you’ll meet different kinds of girls in different kinds of settings and become comfortable talking with them…get a decent haircut and use deodorant and floss your teeth and take regular showers and wear clean clothes.”
Pulp Art Book. Neil Krug
you don’t have to be
a supermodel to play
Probably Not Your Sister. JOLIE MA
I’m currently having this exchange repeatedly:
Dude says: ..My name is Dude.
Amy says: ..Hi, Dude! I’m Amy.
Dude says: ..My sister’s name is Amy.
I don’t understand. Straight man – straight woman introductions are supposed to be for sizing each other up to see if our faces might like to smush together later and you’re telling me that I remind you of your sister? I’m not sure what you want me to say. Cool? Awesome? Let’s all hang out sometime and try not to get confused which one of us you’re talking to?
Not to mention, I’m pretty sure my childhood fantasies about the gloriousness of having a brother were entirely accurate (sorry, Jenny), so basically you’re asking me to compete against the bonds of I kinda want to slap you all the time but then again I might let you meet some of my extremely attractive friends and don’t tell anyone but I’ll probably protect and love you forever-ness. Despite how fabulous this uphill battle where I try to be check plus awesome only to forever lag behind your blood sister who is also named Amy seems to be, I think my face and I are going to pass. Thanks!
Oh and, I really feel like this goes without saying, but no one used to have my name. Besides the music teacher who we all called Mrs. Luke, I was the only Amy in my whole middle school. How is suddenly everyone named Amy? And how do they all have really nice brothers?
Summer Sale. Penelope
Can anyone here speak Italian and/or read the caption in this photo of Robert Redford? If you can and post the English translation as a comment, I’ll use my precious paralegal bigcashmonies to buy you something inspired by this beautiful beast of a man. (click here to enlarge)
now, please excuse me
while i quietly focus