
The outer top is my mom's and the printed polo underneath is my dad's (vintage Pierre Cardin via GOODWILL, whutttt.) And a random orange scarf and random tights and Jeffrey Campbell shoes from solestruck.com.

A fairly simple outfit that I shall expand upon when I don't wake up with 20 minutes to get ready, but I GUESS I SHOULD GET USED TO IT WHAT WITH THIS ROCKNROLL LIFESTYLE I'M LEADING. This weekend I'm going to LA with my dad for the Museum of Contemporary Art anniversary thingymajig which should be very exciting. After NYFW, I've trained myself to not act like a weirdo/jerk when there is a foot between a personal hero and myself. EXAMPLE:
Certain Idol Who Shall Remain Nameless: Hi, I'm [nice, homely, not including their famous last name; very I'm-so-glad-we're-friends nickname I imagine their sleepaway camp buddies called them many years ago]. What's your name?
Me:


