I don’t think any amount of coats would get me to New York right now. My blood is West Coast thin and I’m enjoying sitting outside in 68º weather watching New York Fashion Week via instagram and style.com in the same pair of art stained Acne jeans i’ve had on for three straight days.
There’s so many shows to look at, I haven’t seen them all. Blame my professors. But the shows I’m responding to the most this season are showing me a woman I’d love to be. Tall, beautiful, and wrapped up in really expensive clothing with a very singular vision and screams discerning taste. Me? I’m more of a ping pong ball. Round, dented and all over the place. And the only thing I scream is, “Stop Fighting”. It’s good to have goals.