Guess where she works. No, come on, do it. OK this was going to be some big didactic thing about the evils of dressing head-to-toe from one design philosophy, from one season (i realize she's an unwilling example), and from there i was going to make this stratospheric leap to my tired soap box, the rightness and enlightenment and nobility of dressing head-to-toe in thrift store shit representing a mammoth spectrum of design inspirations, sociological movements, textile innovations and bodily fluids. That's what was on the syllabus for today. She was supposed to look stilted, cookie cutter. Instead she looks adorable. Great. With my deft help, she has just convinced
about a million three people to run right out and buy the sweater, the striped tank, the green skirt and the boat shoes from their nearest JCrew (there, i said it) and wear them just like this. Tonight. And get their hair cut short. And curly.
So i went down in flames on that score, but i was not content to fail miserably at only one goal. Wedged between a mailbox and a garbage can with her feet cut off, the lesson becomes How Not to Frame a Street Style Shot. And what an apt demonstration. i need to run for public office.