In the middle of a wet, wind-racked alley, a little boy dropped his hot chocolate. It had one of those ridiculous plastic lids that always pop off - when you're five - or me. It spilled all over the ground and the wind whipped it into a mile-square film. I kept thinking how awful it must be to be five, wet, and deprived the hot chocolate you were so looking forward to, through a mistake your mother will undoubtedly blame you for, and use as an excuse not to buy you another because she's wet too and cold, and wants to get home and not die of hypothermia. SAD, YOU GUYS.
In an attitude of defiance, and also because I love pink, I bought two (pink) dresses and a purple blazer. Blazers have overtaken cardigans in my affections. St Martin's is about my favourite label ever, GOD. Silk linings with prints of puppies and aphorisms! Embroidered butterflies! Anyway, I modelled this ensemble for la famille later (when I was eg less soaked to the skin):
.purple blazer (with white collar printed with vines)
.short pink dress with pleated skirt, approximately mid-thigh length (but not as short as anything you'll see on Star Trek - oh god STAR TREK - that needs a whole post of its own)
.rainbow-striped knee socks
.black chucks with pink skull laces (see? MATCHING)
My brother said I looked like a clown, my mother said nothing at all, but MY DAD said I looked like 'one of those Japanese girls.'
Score. And a HALF.
(it's okay; i have good legs. a lesbian told me so. and she'd know, right?)