Another day in Paris
Too many things I need to order from Rick (hint, one of them is a blistered leather cap); Vibskov socks named “Dong” will make you laugh, not matter how old or business-like you are; why the fuck is Starbucks the only place to get free wi-fi?; keeping up with my New Year’s resolution to wear more color is easier when it comes in the form of leopard-printed merino; Colette can suck my dick; Stealthprojekt/StyleZeitgeist parties attract the hottest freaking boys; Jenny has a really hard time playing “Gay or European”; I almost broke someone’s door trying to get into a showroom; pony hair is parfait for an iPad case; it’s weird to be the dude with the most basic shoes in the room; camel leather is completely bananas; Rue Saint-Honoré and Place Vendôme are boring as fuck unless you’re from Beijing and don’t mind spending $2k on tacky jackets; Damir is becoming more wearable, which is really weird to say out loud; everything underground smells like pee.
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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.
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