"Puberty is everyone's first experience with a sentient madness." -- Adam Phillips
|Top: Mr Price | Dress (worn as skirt - how clever am I?): Mr Price | Sling bag: Mr Price, basically it's an open love letter to my Mr Price years | Knee socks: Clicks | Jelly Sandals: Factorie | Large Coke: McDonald's|
I'm going to need you to put your socks on because I'm about to lay down a knowledge bomb on you: every fashion publication (well, the mainstream ones like Marie Claire and Seventeen*) will tell you that everyone should have a good quality red lipsticks, it'll stay with you forever and works for every occasion. Um, how about no?
It's black lipstick now and forever. [Hopefully you've seen and hated Springbreakers, or the theatrical trailer at the very least, because then you'll understand what I'm about to add:] (That reminds me of Springbreakers when James Franco as creepy, gun blowing, dirty white boy man says, 'Springbreey-k fuh-eva.')**
Though I'm pretty sure my parents will now be definitely convinced I'm turning to witch craft or whatever kids are into these days. Who could blame them? What with the shrine I'm building to Lana Del Rey, my constant muttering of lyrics from the Tyler, the Creator album; Bastard and my need to match my socks to my top (which, if you think about it, everyone should do) and belts to my shoes to my bag (because 2006 had it right except for all that sandals nonsense).
C'est la bonne vie, bien.
Also, I'd really like to push the idea that we all spend the next two months inside, sucking up as much coolness as we can before November unleashes its humid, failing deodorant, sliding makeup, balmy dragon breath upon us. Because November sucks and the heat sucks and I've probably said different last month but I don't want the heat. I just don't.
But I wanna stay in the kitchen.
Actually, no. I wanna spend every day like it was Friday night: in McDonald's, enjoying the comforting smell of McFries and Oreo McFlurries while dipping McNuggets in Sweet 'n' Sour sauce with mah guurlll, making up the sickest (like, sickest) rhymes and laughing at Miley Cyrus VMA memes. That is la bonne vie.
But then the memes would cease to excist, we'd get irritated of the hot oil and noisy kitchen staff, the nuggets would get us fat and mah guuurrrl would get called out in a Kendrick Lamar verse and then that will be life in its truest form: suck with a side of so hard.
*I'd like to add that even though I called them mainstream (which is, like, the worst word ever), I don't mind Seventeen or Marie Claire much. Actually, I've never read a Marie Claire and I used to adore every single page of Seventeen but I've pretty much outgrown the same 'How to Text Your Crush' advice and 'Flatter Your Curves' pictorials. Like, Seventeen in March 2010 is no different than Seventeen in August 2012.
**So I know that's a really terrible, terrible use of brackets and square brackets but I don't really know the rules of square brackets and the Internet, OK? I'm just trying to get people to wear black lipstick, man.