Small Style, It's Real Life
This Small Style post is brought to you by a combination of a red wine and goose liver hangover, general malaise at being trapped inside for fear of protests, riots, and unrest, a procrastinatory Youtube music discovery binge, and an uncharged camera battery.
I think I get an A+ for this one.
A certain two-year-old also wrote all over her body with a marker. A poop brown marker. I mean, she could have chosen a more complementary colour, geeze, child. Get it together.
She does not get an A+.
Anyway, I dragged my self outside to play, clad in my vagabondary best, and ran around like a banshee chasing a ball with my little miss. And after an hour she was black with dirt, still covered in marker, and her head wet with sweat.
I looked about the same. Except I was not covered in poop-brown marker. But I was wearing a shirt that I sleep in. So we went inside to the fancy place where we live but totally do not belong, and were all, Heeeeeyyyyy fabulous people, and Hermes scarves, and six inch heals and Rolls Royce driving douches, you're totally jealous, I know. Fabulousness.
Dress - Bobo Choses
Shoes - Native
Poop Brown Marker - Crayola