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Nudists are weird. lisafwf@gmail.com

Monday, August 13, 2012

When Boy Meets Girl

The preceding topic of conversation (see title) shall proceed to take place in the figurative, albeit, fashionable sense and not in the literal sense, not only due to the fact that this here is a fashion blog but mostly due to my own personal experience in which the latter never tends to go very well for me (possibly due to the former having become my everyday mantra of dress) and is therefore unworthy of discussion.
Where does that leave us?
Oh right. So, I've said it before and I'll continue to repeat myself in lieu of a general lack of writing talent writers block, I SOMETIMES LIKE TO DRESS LIKE A BOY.
Lately though, I've acquired a taste for dressing like a girl. (I know, it's weird and uncomfortable.) So then I thought one of those ground-breaking thoughts where I unite these two poles of opposition and pop out a fashion baby a.k.a. freshly born outfit and a new blog feature. It has been a productive day (or should I say reproductive?).

In this installment, Boy (baseball cap, weird Warhol sunglasses, leather backpack) meets Girl (dress, sandal clogs, jewellery) and together they look all cute and shit. Because if the literal version of this scenario can only be described as implausible at best, then the sartorial version shall be a god damn harlequin romance novella. Because I said so.

So keep in touch for more romantic romps in which Harry and Sally get to meet each other over and over and over and over... and I continue to look like a douchebag (reference: final image).

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