I hate and will always continue to hate the word 'purse.' I carry a bag. Now, sometimes this bag is baby and sometimes it its three times the size of my waist, but it will never ever be a 'purse.' Purse is such a fragile word, so vulnerable. When I carry a 'purse,' God forbid, I feel like one of those blonde wigged, rust skinned, dagger eye-browed, attention whores - not the good kind of attention: I shall saunter down the street with my killer bag and you will want to be me. You will look on me as if I am the most fabulous person in the world: An image of naturally acclaimed perfection. But I do not notice. Naive to my wonder and general awesomeness, I will go about my business, bag slung loosely over my shoulder... but the bad kind of attention: "Um, like, I'm so drunk and, like, can you hand me my purse pleeeeassee because I, like, need my Blackberrry now. I'm not going home with eiiither of youu." Purse is a terribly horrible word. I silently cringe when someone suggests, "this purse is just fabulous." By calling your rightfully titled bag a purse you are belittling not only yourself, but your entire wardrobe. You are exhibiting a sense of fragility and femininity that is so completely unrepresentative of your youth and greatness that it breaks down, there before you as you speak that dirty, dirty word.
So please, ladies and gents, do not EVER call a bag a purse because that would just be wrong on so many levels. DO NOT suggest that my 'purse' is cute because this is the very last thing that I want to hear. Not only do you break down the fabulousness of my wardrobe, but to be honest, you make yourself look much less attractive to my bag wearing self. Should you become tired, you must trek through your awfully dreary day with your head held high and your bag on your own arm because, an issue unto itself, there is something so terribly wrong with a man carrying a woman's bag.
As for today's photos: I have a serious attraction to tangerine and black and white and that which is slightly off-kilter. I'm thinking about doing a post about hair styles as I've developed a newfound interest in beauty. I'd love to dye my hair like Tavi does, but that's just not in the cards for Carson. I think I would have several heart attacks in the first hour and hide in shame until I die or it were to grow back fully, all the while crying the remainder of my tears into my cashmere mittens. There are just so many things to say but I feel that the photos that I post, although usually unrelated to my rants, convey a sense of storytelling if not only continuity in style. Much of the time I find some sort of texture or colour contrast in my photo series that I simply fall in love with.