Jacket, Dex (swap). Dress, London Times. Belt, thrifted. Tights, We Love Colors. Boots, Diba. Owl brooch, swap. Earrings, Urban Outfitters.
I’m not often downtown at 11 p.m. on a Saturday. I had forgotten that the streets are full of bar-hopping, 20-somethings. Feeling overly dressed among all the half-naked ladies, I talked my way past a cover at Mynt, but was unable to find any official Fashion Week goings-on. (I was over 2 hours late to the party and the place was PACKED with drinkers and dancers by the time I arrived.) Still, I enjoyed a Lemon Drop martini and reminisced about my own (long gone) drunken dancing days.
Don’t worry about the missed connection. I plan to be on time for the Fashion Week events in April. I might even dress appropriately.
You are hardcore to seek out a party post-show, lady! I hope the bouncer you sweet-talked appreciated your owl.
I'm 17 and can't wait for my dancing days to start :)
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