Stripes + peekaboo shoulder + striped bike shorts + harness boots = I could not get my camera up fast enough. This event was Brooklyn hipnin' (i made that word up) which naturally served to highlight my dorkiness. Did I heed these junior high levels of self-consciousness and quietly try to blend in? I did not (see below).
Oh my gosh, I am terminal, but what would you do? Whatever it takes, right? First of all, groups of people intimidate me. Groups of hip people make my forehead go numb. Groups of hip, attractive guys wearing sunglasses in a dark room, grey laceups with white soles and blue heels, red boat shoes and a Mr. Rogers cardigan with artfully worn pants and boots make me babble uncontrollably and cut off their heads. They may or may not have thought I was one of those sad women you hear so much about who snort kitty litter. Pretty sure I played it off though.