A sequence of thoughts, in Paris
Why is there only one person who speaks English at the Rick store in the Palais Royale?; I think my hotel room is actually falling apart, but they’ve kept everything together with plaster; French people should be grateful for North African and Middle Eastern immigrants because some of them are really hot; I am going to spend WAY too much money placing personal orders for fall 2012; Tranoï hosts too many designers that all look the same; Patrik Ervell is going to be a great collection when it hits the runway; when every fucking bistrot looks cute as shit, you have no idea which ones are actually good; don’t call yourself a creperie if you reheat your crepes rather than making them to order; Japanese buyers dress baller as fuck no matter where they are and what the weather is; what do they put in the water that enables French women to walk cobblestone streets in heels in the rain without falling or looking like their feet are killing them?; blogging on an iPad without access to italics, bold, and other formatting is hard, but I don’t give a shit whether or not this is easy to read.
-
nicoleee said:
at least the sales associate at the rick store wasn’t sleeping when you went (true story)
-
blackandmetal liked this
-
angelawublog said:
“ballet as fuck” hee
-
tffnyw liked this
-
blackentheblack liked this
-
notacomplexperson posted this
Twenty-something tribal mystic who only wants a few things in life. Self-indulgent, self-narrating, self-effacing.
Me on chictopia.
Me on ffffound!.
Just me.
Oracular advice dispensed, as well.
Things I wrote, read, bought, ate, and made.
Theme by Monique Tendencia
