Hi sanity, hi!

Gonna make this a quick post for I have some majorzstudying to do right now. I drank coffee past 6pm today. When I said majorz I meant it.

Hi today's outfit! Hi versatile thrifted blazer slash cardigan slash love of life! Hi vintage scarf! Hi H&M drop crotch pants! Hi lazy outfit post!

Hi new vintage shoes!

Hi H&M ring!

Bye! What you thought I was going to say hi when I was to end this post? I'm no paradox! Hi paradox! (see what I did der)

What I'm seriously saying hello to is homework. But instead of a formal hello it's more like (enter vulgar crude comment here).

Epic Epicer Epicest

So today I went grad dress shopping in Toronto. We decided to hit the vintage stores first, some of which I had previously shopped at before and others of which I was essentially a virgin to. I was a bit unlucky regarding dresses in Courage My Love, a store in which I will probably rape with my debit card when I move here in September, but I found some shoes and earrings and conversed with the owner about epic, out-of-price-range rings from the outskirts of Turkey which he let me fondle/caress/molest (thank you, kind Sir, I hope I did not scar you too much). But I'm kind of straying from my point. With no dress in hand, we decided to venture a bit to the West side of the city to a store I had presumptuous doubts about but when I walked in and took a look around the room my knees slightly buckled. Slightly? I'm being modest.

The store I'm talking about is Cabaret, a vintage clothing boutique of two floors containing 1930s/40s/50s vintage clothing that were fucking amazing. The main floor is dedicated strictly to women's dresses. They were so stunning I (purposefully) forgot to check the price tags before trying them on. The man behind the counter thought he'd mention the second floor as my pupils started dilating and I thought I would remain sane but it was too late. I got downstairs and the knees buckled again. Can I even put this store into proper literary speak? Honestly I don't think so. All I can say is I now know what epic looks/smells/tastes like. Yes I said taste. DON'T JUDGE ME.

And apparently Bjork and Dita Von Teese shop here when they're in town. Just gets epicer and epicer, doesn't it? Literary speak can shove it, this store trumps my inability to convey adoration properly.

These are some of the pieces I saw/tried on and some that I was probably too late to witness single handedly their perfection. SHOVE IT LIT SPEAK, shove it uncomfortably far. Oh god that didn't make sense either, I'm just going to stop even trying.

This dress reminds me of Christopher Kane SS09.

PS. Feedback on new layout? The girl is supposed to screaming at the Paper or Plastic title by the by. Screaming from too much epic or too little posts? You decide.

PPS. HEY LIT SPEAK? THIS IS WHAT I THINK OF YOU.

[Picture removed as a result of diminishing dignity]

I should remind myself to not post dignity diminishing pictures at one in the morning. It just diminishes dignities. It also makes lit speak laugh a revengeful cackle. Yeah, well you better watch out, litty. It's always better served cold. Cold as a polar bear's uterus.

Alright that's it, I'm going to bed. I've ended a post about vintage boutiques by arguing with my literary skills. So essentially, I'm arguing with myself.

your mouth is running

Hazel tagged me to list seven random things about myself, which is kind of ironic because I wanted to blog but had no idea what to blog about.

i) I have a tendency to misplace things often.

ii) Whenever I'm alone in my house, all I do is sing, usually what's been in my head all week. Currently it is this. My mouth... is touching...

iii) Sometimes I feel like quitting blogging because I feel as if I come off too pretentious/narcissistic/egotistical, which is pretty contradictory to the truth.

iv) The taste of grapefruit repulses me to no end. Same goes for tonic water.

v) I could sleep like an infant listening to the sound of Alec Baldwin's voice.

vi) Today was the first day I thoroughly read an issue of i-D magazine.

vii) I find I always take out my camera in the most lethargic of moods; with the exception of photographing outfits. They aren't meant to beauty shots, but more regarding sincerity and actuality I suppose.

Last night's outfit. I was a bit inspired by the impeccable Pandora, though really I don't know what I'm inspired by anymore. For some time now I can never start off with a certain inspiration in mind. I've just been pulling shit out of my closet and it's like my mind goes blank and when I'm finally completely dressed it's then when I realize the square root variable of my what I was inspired from.

My birthday was fun, I have no pictures though (from the fresh bruises all over my legs that seemed like a good call) but these ones. You're just going to have to live with it, bitchez. Oh, and I've had Good Charlotte stuck in my head all morning GET IT OUT GET IT OUT GET IT OUT. I've been walking around my house screaming "I just wanna LIVE!" like it's my day job. A day job that constitutes slaughtering cute babies/puppies/kittens/anythingcute. So a bad one.

Scarf is vintage, sheer black top from H&M, black strapless dress from Forever 21, shoes from a local shoe store, tights from WalMart, and glasses are rims from a 3D movie. Broke people need to work with their resources.