This past weekend we met up with our resident Brit-slash-style icon, Jess, to raid her closet, make a mess of her room, and take some derpy pictures. Everything was lined out in three different genres, all different but all intricately forming into our own personal styles. And after briefly fawning over Jess' chiffon McQueen scarf we got on with the actual picture-taking.
To hit the other side of the spectrum, our second set was a homage to flower children, hippie festivals, and vibes of all things earthly and mellow. The weather was in our favor - sort of. The wind kept us on our toes, making our posey poses even more difficult to execute, but gave such naturalist vibes. The Beatles played repeat in my head. I am he as you are he as you are me and we are all together.
It’s 1979. Punk shows, plaid skirts, studs, chains, and BLACK. All our friends are skinheads and rudeboys and fuck the law. Our tights are ripped and our lipstick’s smeared. We painted our room black and half the closet’s leather. Chaos is chic, adults are fascists, and there’s no such thing as a future.