My last name is not Dickenshit.

Silk Blouse- Wilfred (Aritzia), Grey Cutoffs- I don't remember, probably vintage, Platforms- Vera Wang Lavender Label, Brown Stone Necklace- BCBG, Heart "Let's Make Out" Necklace- In God We Trust (Bonadrag), various random jewelry (mostly vintage or Free People)

I wasn't going to do an outfit post tonight, but realized that (due to the extreme thinness of my hair) it would be prudent to record for posterity the closest I will probably ever get to the much-coveted bun on top of the head look. Also, I realized that this shirt is pretty much the perfect silk blouse. I have had it for a while and never wore it until now- go figure. Anyway, sorry if the outfit isn't the most exciting. Speaking of unexciting things (nice segue, eh?), Balmainnnnnnn. As a (former?) fan, I am sort of insulted. I know this is going to be one of those "The Emperor Has No Clothes" situations where everyone pretends that good ol' Decarnin knocked out the most original/genius collection ever, but just LOOK AT IT. I understand that certain designers have a very distinct point of view (Rick Owens is a good example), but this isn't distinct- this is copying yourself. There are certain pieces in this collection that look exactly like pieces from last Spring. And if I wanted another studded leather biker jacket I would just go to ANY effing store in the mall and buy one (I bet it wouldn't cost me 2.5 million dollars, either). Seriously, Anthropologie probably has an interpretation hanging out among the racks of twee little cardigans, boot-cut Sevens, and floral, work-appropriate whatevers. To be clear, I have nothing against Anthro. Please don't yell at me. It's just the last retailer I can think of that would ever carry a studded biker anything. 

Now I shall click through some Meadham Kirchhoff color-saturated, magical amazingness while eating Little Debbie Zebra Cakes (one of the more perfect culinary delights) with "Jesus Camp" (one of the more fascinating documentaries) playing in the background. Multitasking calms me down. Although eating Little Debbies may not be considered a task- I suppose it's all in how you look at it.

Ha! I planned on ending the post there, but have something wildly hilarious to share with the lone reader (hi Joey) who managed to get this far before (understandably) losing interest. Cold Case Files is on TV in the background and they just introduced a detective named Mike Dickenshit. Keep in mind that this is not a fictional show. This poor Mike fellow has actually slogged through life with a surname perfectly crafted for every varietal of bullying. Now that puts the sad end to my Balmainia in perspective. At least my name is not Margaret Dickenshit. Goodnight!