TongueLash

what comes by us might be the most tongue-lashing color of space we see but we cannot breathe through insulated windows. we sweat in our sheets ashamed to be too naked, too true to yield to passing by serial killers. what isn't random. isn't likely to happen.

The obligatory Getting to Know Me post. I should warn you, I've been doing this for a while now, so here's the time travelling all access pass HERE. I also do this thing called "tweeting" is it? maybe?
~ Thursday, January 26 ~
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(via farankrentcil) Faran’s back at Fashionista for a day to reminisce on the golden days. 2007 was also when I got my start, my first peek (and quick tumble) into the world of long limbs, blind items, designers, icons, and to be completely redundant, pretty dresses. I learned from the best: fashion blogs, i-D and Dazed and Confused magazines, religiously reading the Imaginary Socialite. And you know what’s funny? The truth of the matter is, we’re all just nerds. Except our Carl Sagan is Karl Lagerfeld and our Spock is Kate Moss. We can recite runway trends by seasons and the really good ones can pin down an editorial to the publication, the model, and the creative director. And isn’t that what all this is about? Loving something hard, all consumingly, obsessively? We pick and choose all the bits and pieces of memorabilia to fit some sort of canvas of self, and we spend more time in microscopic frenzy than anyone else ever will. The truth is, we do it for ourselves. Anyone that loves for the sake of others is an idiot and doing it all for naught. Nobody cares. Nobody cares about your obsessions. Nobody cares about what keeps you up at night. So be proud of your vices, be proud of your jeopardy categories. wrap them up like blankets and sleep safe and sound.

(via farankrentcil)

Faran’s back at Fashionista for a day to reminisce on the golden days. 2007 was also when I got my start, my first peek (and quick tumble) into the world of long limbs, blind items, designers, icons, and to be completely redundant, pretty dresses. I learned from the best: fashion blogs, i-D and Dazed and Confused magazines, religiously reading the Imaginary Socialite. And you know what’s funny? The truth of the matter is, we’re all just nerds. Except our Carl Sagan is Karl Lagerfeld and our Spock is Kate Moss. We can recite runway trends by seasons and the really good ones can pin down an editorial to the publication, the model, and the creative director. And isn’t that what all this is about? Loving something hard, all consumingly, obsessively? We pick and choose all the bits and pieces of memorabilia to fit some sort of canvas of self, and we spend more time in microscopic frenzy than anyone else ever will. The truth is, we do it for ourselves. Anyone that loves for the sake of others is an idiot and doing it all for naught. Nobody cares. Nobody cares about your obsessions. Nobody cares about what keeps you up at night. So be proud of your vices, be proud of your jeopardy categories. wrap them up like blankets and sleep safe and sound.

Tags: nostalgiapost faran fashionista imaginary socialite
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reblogged via farankrentcil