Thrifted skirt + top, misc. Indian scarf, Soda wedges, H&M sunglasses.
"You're wearing that?," she said.
"You won't fit in," she said.
"No one is gonna be dressed like that," she said.
When we found ourselves wandering into the Museum of Modern Art, she had to admit that
perhaps my foresight was better than expected and I couldn't have dressed MORE appropriately.
I spent my Sunday afternoon looking at apartments and dining with my photographer
friend in L.A. I love that the city swallows everything up. It doesn't matter how I dress --
the city absorbs it, like soundwaves into foam, so I can dress and be as loud as I want.
Stylistically speaking, this is a city where it's OK to scream.
This shirt is amazing -- it's nearly weightless, flows like water and drapes like
a dream. Good contrast to a skirt that clings like an insecure girlfriend.
This was an interactive outdoor art exhibit at the museum. I felt like Nemo inside an anemone.
Misc. tshirt + high waisted jeans, T.U.K. creepers, Forever 21 ring.
Jeans,t-shirts, and flat shoes -- back to basics. I told you I was turning plebeian.
On that subject, I've further cemented my status as a professional member of the pro-
letariat by become an "experienced" metro user as of late. It's not that bad, actually; I
saw a guy who looked like a flaming gay 15-year old version of Bob Marley yesterday.
He ran like he had springs in his shoes.
In the words of my brother, "A trip downtown on the train is like a mini-tour of post-
industrial Russia." The route does indeed cut through what I can only describe as the
armpits of L.A., but even that has it's charm in a certain I Am Legend-esque way.
I had to run for a train recently, and for some reason I really enjoyed it. I think it's
because it IS the very last train and the stakes are high if I miss it. I like running
when there's a countdown or deadline, like catching a bus or train, or trying to make it
across the street from half a block away before the crosswalk light changes. I like the
suspense and pressure.
