Cooler than You: Stupid Things I Say and Do

I finally get it man.  I mean, like I finally get it.  You know, that signature style and look that marks us, shapes us, makes us happy every day . . . Yup.  Okay, so I've had it for awhile, but it took me some trials to realize that some areas of life are past the point of experimentation.   Like jeans and tees, with pearls and boots . . . blazers and more boots.  We know.  Right? #always. First up, I'm dead serious on not making shit to just make it anymore.  Even more serious on eschewing cheap fabrics, tester fabrics, and trying it to see what the fuss is all about.  Yea, no.  Why? When I moved two months ago let us just note that there was a small semi truck of makes that were cast aside from either being  enormously too big as my body has altered in the past couple of years, I never liked, or--my personal favorite here--were in fabrics that I was clearly drunk, out of my mind, or just deaf, dumb, and blind when I purchas...

As the snow clouds fill the sky, with an unrelenting rage of white shroud falling at a diarrhea rate, my cardio of shivering under fleece is doing little more than make my chairs wobble from the constant rock-rock-rock. Though, in my continual battle against the elements--and my refusal to completely de-sex myself in the long doll-drum days of winter--wool plus flannel is like a girl's BFF this winter.   Enter, Bruyere no. 2.  The first one, the original '90s throwback, first appeared on the Curvy Collective .  Even with that questionable fabric, I still love that version. Though, I must say . . . it stretches and doesn't hold up well.  I would say that thing will still be dead by spring, but I don't see daffodils and such peeking from the ground.  Instead, I see miles and miles of the white shroud.   Yes, hello 1 March from the IKEA in Brooklyn.  I'm shivering over here.  Yes, yes, I am.   That aside . . . Bruyere number two...