Often on this blog I have used sexual humor as a way in which to convey the silliness that I often feel, however for this one post i'm going to stay as straight-faced as possible. There's a reason for this, and the reason: being a style outsider. I came up with this term as a way in which to describe the emotions I felt during my middle school years. It was a phrase that often evoked the connotations of Ducky or Andy from pretty in pink, or Rayane Graff from my so-called life. Characters who influenced my style, my persona, and even the way in which I conducted myself in public. However, as I reach the end of my junior year I find myself slowly losing that person, a child who wore outfits which would make a nun cry. Maybe it's sentimentality, or simply a desire for an easier life, but looking back at this blog I realize how much I miss writing the sexually infused, humor-less posts on style and life.
So here's the conclusion of this mini-post: I'm back. I apologize for my absence, and I ask that you, the reader, if you even exist at this point, to pretend that I simply went on a vacation to fashion land and came back with hands full of sheer shirts, and bold printed pants.
So here's the conclusion of this mini-post: I'm back. I apologize for my absence, and I ask that you, the reader, if you even exist at this point, to pretend that I simply went on a vacation to fashion land and came back with hands full of sheer shirts, and bold printed pants.
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