On this Installment of Boys I'd like to Fuck....

some shit i found on tumblr. chiiiiilllllllll. Okay, I'ma go git laid now...or maybe drink a beer.



I hate the way this model looks...the hair and makeup...but I love the clothes. Throw a crochet/peter-pan collar on anything and I'll buy it. 
Thank you to everyone who actually took the time to read my rant, and comment...I wasn't expecting that, and I'm a grateful.


okay. here is the deal:

I just sent a FACEBK message to my  x-bf that makes me extremely vulnerable...aka I H8 the future. Take me home to the heart aka desert of texas and lemme use this wood-fired oven whn its real cold and lemme roll around on the horse named..i dunno, something inspired by cormac McCarthy...

I sometimes (read:most of the time) just want to leave this ugly, ugly ugly UGLY UGLY UGLY...sorry got carried away there....disgusting world. I like a fashion spread or two or ten, they are beautiful...they are....I like them. I want to incorporate them into my general life style...but honestly...I want to leave all of you, ALL OF YOU, all of you
-people who want followers
-people who want to be internet-famous
-people who give more credence to...physical shit.

Sometimes I read blogs and I wonder: has your heart ever been totally completely broken? Like you stare into space and try to keep on keeping on, but it still just keeps on hurtin and so you keep starin and keep drinkin, and you're just fuct fuct fuct, I guess, the only bloggers I've ever who've really addressed pain are sister wolf, and recently fashion toast. It's kinda fuct'd no?

We all post our daily outfits, our make-up, our shoes/sweaters/dresses/shoes again(in my case) that we want....but never a damn thing about what...about what we are really feeling...

yes, we have great style. Yes, we want to share it and git feedback, yes we care about our community...this community of fashion bloggers...but also, how much more would it all mean if we were a little more honest? If karla maybe talked about how she was feeling weird about her beautiful bf (sry to use you as an example).....

I'm not a blogger icon. I'm no one as far as internet popularity, but I'm going to say something real real real 4 real right now. B/c I'm tired of being a fashion blogger, that is what I love, but it's not all of who I am.

I have worked and am working and am always working, and am always trying to keep living because it is worth it...because something is worth it. AND sometimes I think it is fashion, and sometimes I think it is ANIMALS, and sometimes I think it is PSYCHOLOGY, and what I can do, maybe some day for a other ppl, and sometimes I think it is a random (read: all of the above) million things that make life worth worth WORTH it.

& I am trying...and as hard as I hurt (and I do) I won't stop.
I"ll keep posting editorials. I'll keep crying. I'll keep on FUCKING keeping on. Because I owe it to ME. Because I owe it.


this is a drunk post...fyi

I think I'm going to go fuck some stuff up, but no worries, no one will know/notice


lord, take me home to texas.

This makes me wish I could wear white pants. Also that I had a cowboy hat. Wheres my cowboy hat? I think you get one, like the second you enter texas right?

Well this is awkward...

Pardon the pixels, and even pardon the snarking...but this woman is no longer the visage of a powerful model or woman. She's the image of a woman uncomfortable with her age, trying to hold on to an image which stopped being possible a long time ago. She looks older than her years, sick, and above all tired. She doesn't inspire me. Her style is not unique or beautiful or even inspired. Can the fashion world please move on from a model who was successful, above all, for looking like a 12 yr old heroin addict (a pretty one though)? Can the stylish collective stop supporting this woman's obvious self destruction? She has a child for christ's sake. 

I am aware there is a lot you can poke holes in, or offer up other examples of why she is amazing. But I don't see it. I don't get it. I never will. It's my opinion. And it's not so much HER as a person (obvs, I've never met the woman) but what the continued obsession with her says about the industry, and maybe, all of us. You cannot look at her face and tell me she looks happy or healthy.


A stunning photograph by Jay B Sauceda of the Mexican border in Texas. I've been reading all the pretty horses by Cormac McCarthy, so this has a special place for me right now. I found this over at Miss Moss, which is an excellent blog ps.



I want and need new ones. I have gone through three pairs in the last two years. I wore one pair so far down that the sole LITERALLY broke in half. Let me give you une creeper tip: buy t.u.k's they were the only pair that didn't totally fall apart on me...but sometimes, paying 20$ outweighs 60. Sometimes.

just so you know...



via sea of shoes (of all places?)
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