Blazer: FILIPPA K. Shirt: VINCE. Circle Scarf: DIY.Pants: H&M. Boots: ZARA.
Pardon my lack of quality in blog entry updates, I’ve been wallowing in self-pity and absolute frustration lately. My extreme ‘on edge attitude ’ is murderous and I’m just about the biggest son of a bitch a whore could ever have towards anyone and everyone around me.
I’ve been sporting nothing but black from head to toe in my daily attire for the past week. This basically warns people not to fuck with me because I will do more than rip a new hole in your face, but I will also flush your pet fish down the toilet and use your tooth brush to make you polish my boots with it.
I find the colour black a very empowering colour rather than depressing and sadistic. Bland it may be, but this colour is intimidating when worn with extreme confidence and alluringly sexy when dressed in the correct way. It’s the colour of the unknown, which makes others ponder in mystery and absolute wonder. Of course and best of all, wearing black is slimming to the eye and nothing feels better than looking adequately skinny enough to rival against any rail-ass-thin bitch off the runways of Paris and Milan.