Sunday, March 6, 2011
Saturday, March 5, 2011
Hello Sunshine
Side-effects of this dress include men all around you walking into many sorts of hazards (e.g. busy traffic, light poles, stairways).
Friday, March 4, 2011
Loaves
Ciabatta - Italian pronunciation: [tʃaˈbatta], literally "carpet slipper". Who knew!
Boy, do I miss the farmers market in Dunedin.
Thursday, March 3, 2011
On the roof we play
The Hill-Side S/S11. You may laugh and say it's just another silly clothing campaign, but their current look-book hits the spot and pretty much embodies the tingling optimism I have in life. Warmth, companionship and taking pleasure in the simple things in life. Having style to go with all of that is, of course, icing on the cake.
Pins and needles
You stole that belt from a guy (an old flame?), didn't you? Woke up one morning at his place, got dressed and saw this belt peeking out of his clothes drawer. You played with it and thought to yourself, "A little too chunky and too long, but hey, what the heck. I'll just knot the end up like this". Funny thing is he never noticed that it was his to begin with.
Heartbreakin' theif... ;)
Heartbreakin' theif... ;)
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
And death becomes you
To be marked on my headstone:
Acta est fabula, plaudite!
The play is over, applaud!
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
Petal picking
How do I know if a girl loves me or not?
- Pasha Malla
If she’s a zombie: She loves you, but only for your brains.
If she hides your shoes when you’re late for work, and from a supine position on the couch plays “Hot/Cold,” and, finally, after 15 minutes of you ignoring her screaming, “Boiling! Burning up!” every time you stalk angrily by the dishwasher, gets up, flips it open to reveal the shoes, sitting there among the plates, and hands them over with a kiss and a giggle, and then laughs some more as you tie your laces in a silent rage: She loves you.
If she calls you at work that day to ask, “How are those shoes working out?”: She loves you.
- Pasha Malla
If she’s a zombie: She loves you, but only for your brains.
If she hides your shoes when you’re late for work, and from a supine position on the couch plays “Hot/Cold,” and, finally, after 15 minutes of you ignoring her screaming, “Boiling! Burning up!” every time you stalk angrily by the dishwasher, gets up, flips it open to reveal the shoes, sitting there among the plates, and hands them over with a kiss and a giggle, and then laughs some more as you tie your laces in a silent rage: She loves you.
If she calls you at work that day to ask, “How are those shoes working out?”: She loves you.
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