I have been obsessed with the idea of dark wash boyfriend jeans worn with leather suspenders and a risque top (such as a crop top, or a really skimpy vintage camisole). As soon as I gain some means of income (whenever that happens) my first paycheck is going towards some version of these....Okay, it's probably going towards a new camshaft for my engine, but play along, it makes me feel better.
I have also been eating an obscene amount of grilled cheese sandwiches. Pumpernickel and swiss is my favourite. My desire to eat grilled cheese runs in direct contradiction with my desire to wear a crop top.
These shoes haunt my dreams. I wake up in a cold sweat thinking about them. And that is where they will stay, because: A. They cost over a fucking grand. B. I would immediately fall, break something, and have to sell said shoes to pay for my hospital bills.
I may appear to be another mild-mannered hipster, and for the most part this is an accurate description (I read Simone de Beauvoir while listening to Blitzen Trapper, for Christ's sake), but I am in fact a closet metalhead. If you haven't heard Atlanta-natives (and all around badasses) Mastodon, you should. So epic.
