COLA

HEY HEY HEY! GOD DAMN, I have been so disconnected from the blogosphere. I've been living so IRL between work and just not being a fashion blogger that my URL presence has become some not-so-secret, easily-Googlable obnoxious extension of a previous life. I tweeted something a while back about being a #fashion blogger, not a fashion blogger. I think this means that I'm more URL-centric than IRL-centric or maybe it's because I utilize twitter/facebook/microblogging platforms more than the standard Blogspot/Tumblr. Is Tumblr a microblog? What're the specs on these definitions? I want to see the receipts. Show me the receipts.

I've really been getting in touch with my inner West Hollywood persona. Traipsing up and down that little 4 block stretch of Santa Monica Blvd, aviators, blazer, wannabe-pompadour, wannabe pompous attitude, trying to try too hard. I can't stand that persona. I mean, it works if I'm trying to get a ride home, but do I really want that ride home? Is it worth it (both literally and metaphorically, these boys want the D) and I'm not against sexuality or hypersexuality or freedom of love or expression of that love or any of that but just, that isn't me and I'm comfortable enough with myself to declare that. There's nothing wrong with aviators and a blazer and a new nightly trick but I just can't be that persona. I mean, I can, but I can't. So, if you're ever in WeHo and you see me running around looking like a homeless posh cyborg and everyone is scowling at me and it's 10pm, give me a ride home. I will make you so pizza rich, you'll have to cry yourself to sleep for a week to release your raw internalized emojis.

So anyway, here are some stupid pictures of me wearing some stupid clothes and looking somberly into the distance at like, a tree or something. Except I don't 100% mean that because I got this fantastic shirt jacket from Cult of Individuality. Like, shackets are the best. I was so afraid of them for so long because they were something new to me and I've been conditioned by my culture to immediately fear anything outside of my comfort zone, but I got over my easy excuse and they suddenly became THE BEST THING EVER. Like, they can be a shirt. But, get this, also a jacket. Or they can be a shirt and then when you want to show off a little bit of skin, back to jacket. Shirt. Jacket. Jacket. Shirt. JIRT. SHACKET. And Cult of Individuality really nailed this shacket. It's just your standard denim button down but GOD DAMN PRAY FOR ME IT IS SO COMFORTABLEKJLFDGJ and it makes me feel like I'm in some late 50's ruff n tuff street thug kid gang where we turn over trash cans and get in fights and call our fights 'scraps' and I can say that one of the kids 'slugged' me.

But like, if the jacket wasn't enough, they also have fitted caps that say CULT in big letters. CULT. CULT. On your hat. It's so great. In this post-apocalyptic-as-of-18-days-ago world that we are now in, we have evolved beyond the upside-down cross, the Illuminati triangle, the pentagram necklaces. We're in full-blown Cult snapback mode. This outfit also means a lot in the grander scheme of my evolution. Since I wrote my 'Snapback Luke' post many moons ago, I've wanted to do a Snapback Luke look so badly. I had it all planned. Vans or Converse, not the high tops, just your standard skater sneaker. Some distressed Levi's. A vest to be 'fashion'. A hoodie over that to be dude-centric. And a snapback. Oh, how I pictured that snapback. But then this CULT hat came into my life and, right around that time, I actually had a run-in with the inspiration of Snapback Luke and, you know, he wasn't that awful IRL. I mean, I couldn't stand his shoes and he was REALLY REALLY REALLY friendly (which always terrifies me), but he was a nice guy and I suddenly felt so bad about flaming him that I instantly decided that my war with Luke had ended. Luke, you're not bad. You're also kind of cute and if you ever ditch your boytoy and you catch me in my WeHo persona and I need a ride home, I am V D. Very down. (By the way, you'd never BELIEVE how many people in this city don't understand that VD means 'very down' and then suddenly stop texting me back what's up with that)

Cult of Individuality shirt, Diesel Black Gold jeans, Cult of Individuality hat, Hanes tank top, thrifted brandless boots, thrifted brandless BEST ROSARY EVER, Modify watch, Stolen-from-a-movie-theater 3D glasses

Also, Modify makes these really perfect watches. Like, REALLY perfect watches. Like, spit in your face and steal your lunch and then buy you a timeshare in Waikiki perfect. I went with the standard black rubber wristband and metallic silver face because I'm B O R I N G (but which actually worked out well because I started wearing it with EVERYTHING and if I got a pink zebra print nautical star one, I wouldn't have), but you can get your stripes on, you can get your stars on, you can get your stars and stripes on, you can get your groove on.

Finally, best rosary ever. I mean, BEST ROSARY EVER. My favorite thing I've bought since moving to L.A., hands down. Hands on the FLOOR. Like, it's huge. Like, it's wood. Like, IT LANDS RIGHT OVER MY DANGER ZONE. If this cross doesn't taste like Pepsi Cola by now, nothing ever will again.