The Special Line

We all dislike being told what we can or cannot do when it comes to our personal fashion choices. We want to not only do whatever the hell we want, we want other people to think “goddamn, I never would have thought of that but he/she sure rocks it. She is special!”

But not all of us can. And it may not be right. It certainly isn’t just or doled out in even measures of cool for everyone but it is. IT IS. Sometimes I forget that. ‘cause goddamn the rules I do what I want and I encourage you to do the same.

For example, I like wearing glasses. Sunglasses, yes. But I’m talking about glasses. I have better than perfect vision (YOU OVER THERE YES I DO SEE YOU DOING THAT YOU FUCKING PERVERT) so it offends some people who actually require glasses. “You don’t even NEED glasses!”  Which is total bullshit. You don’t see the bald people saying the rest of us can’t wear hats for gods sake.  And I like wearing them! I just like it! So I do. Sometimes.

But then there comes along a person that proves there is a line and that line exists in this case just below the ears of a washed out pink woman. That line is being crossed by her giant floppy breasts at your dear relatives funeral. That line is smudged and smeared red three centimeters around the outside of her happy lips. That line is disappearing in her play-dough form and wobbling on top of a pair of hooker heals right before your very eyes!

*rubbing eyes and shaking head*

Still. Do whatever you want. You’re unlikely to be in the category of blog worthy fashion mistake. You would never think of wearing what she did, all the pieces coming together that way was a magic only she could create on her body. She was special. 

May 24, 2009