sweat suit alternative

(all thrifted, pants originally from Express)

Tim Gunn knows what he's talking about. I wore this to lunch with a friend, who commented enthusiastically on the duster. I call it my "Jedi Robe". Yeah. I'm a dweeb.

when you kiss me heaven sighs

(thrifted dress, thrifted cap)

This dress begs to be slouched up with torn, ugly jeans. I met it halfway with a newsie cap.

Lily Donaldson WOULD have perfect taste in little black dresses.

I seriously changed my clothes like four times today, except for the black tights.

Oh, and I've been listening to Roisin Murphy nonstop since last night, so let me know if you're lonely, babe.

(dress, vintage H&M. tights, Strawberry. shoes, thrifted. belt, thrifted. iPod, Apple. Hair, self-cut.)

college girls drink cheap tea

(shirt, gifted. tank, thrifted. jeans, gifted. necklaces, gifted--yup, all of them!)

Note the Lipton brand. And the haircut.

they call me the cautionary whale

My laptop camera is a piece 'o' crap, and I haven't access to a real honest to goodness digital camera. Thus, Facebook!
Halloween: Juno MacGuff (moi) and Pauley Bleeker (mah floormate), various floories in the background. Note the epic platform sneakers. Always good to be two inches taller.

(jeans: thrifted American Eagle. shoes: thrifted. skirt: Gap. purse: Target. flannel: KMart. striped shirt: roommate's. black tank top: studiomate's. button-down: Carson's. fake uterus: floormate's blanket, rubberbands.)

put a ring on it

Sorry about the crappy image quality, again. It's a laptop camera thing.

I stood on a piano bench to get this. Blurg.

(sweater: mom, dress: h&m vintage, jeans: carson's, hair: weird)

More people I love

NCIS forensic scientist Abby Sciuto (and, by extension, actress Pauley Perrette) is my new favorite person. She's like the Gothic Lolita Badass alter ego I never had.

I want to be best friends with her and have her cut my hair into black fringe and blast pounding techno music in computer labs while we analyze the various molecular structures of delicious cocktails, let cow-eyed cutiepies curl up in the corner, and give our deadpan sociopathic bosses hugs that could crush a camel.

Oh, and the cross tattoo. LOOK AT IT! Who doesn't want a fantabulous Jesus symbol plastered on their backs? Well, atheists. But it's not like Abby or I are big religieuses, anyway.

(Images: google.com)