Come, let me sing into your ear

I never feel that I am dressing how I want to, feeling like I am forever sinking in the space of my own mediocrity. I want to wear precious lace dresses meant for green days and tea parties out of story books, but these dresses seem to exist solely in my fiendish dreams. I want to cloak myself in sleek black, grab a fake cigarette, and imagine myself a character in a Simone de Beauvoir novel. Or dress like anyone of them, really.







(FAK!, pandora, sartorialist)