Job?
student, american apparel

Best Sartorial advice from your parents?
wearing all black

Style Icons?
chloe sevigny, jane birkin, yves saint laurent

Describe your personal style?
it changes every day but i would say- classic, modern, upbeat with a ghetto twist

I build my daily look around?
the weather!

Personal Style quirks?
i have no eye for matching colours, which gives me a very interesting pallet to work with.

Most cherished item
my chloe belt, my sneaker collection

I feel best wearing?
leggings and a sweater

The first thing I look at in another Sartorialist’s outfit ...
shoes, tights, pants and the hair.

I always break this fashion rule.
matching colours! there is beauty in the random

I never break this fashion rule.
ill fitting clothing

Never caught wearing?
anythng that looks cheap, skirts that are lower than above my knee

Most underrated item in menswear/womenswear?
stocking/socks

Dress to impress who?
me, however who doesnt' enjoy a good compliment from a well dressed stranger

Shine your own shoes?
ive never had a pair of shoes that needed to be shined!

I skimp when buying ...
flats, because I go through them so fast

I splurge on.....
bags.

Guilty pleasure?
the same item in several colours, a pleasure only exhentuated by the fact that i work at american apparel.

Cologne, skincare?
sothys and for makeup i dip everywhere but my perfume of choice is trouble by boucheron

Most stylish city?
paris, always

When I was high school I wore?
very different clothing fmor everyone else

Sports?
horseback riding, volleyball

Favorite vacation spots?
SLOVAKIA, italy and the south f france of course

You confuse me infinite amounts with your uncertainty that I willfully chose to ignore yet I feel small and weak and I just want to migrate away already. I know this is hard, I knew it would be, but I miss you even just as a friendly face and I keep telling myself to keep some of my wants at bay because in the end I will end up crying in my bathtub regretting mistakes I didn’t make. Despite all your charms, due to all your charms, my dreams haunt me and I find myself in doubt, a dubious emotion I hap not much experience. What use have you got for my old English slang anyhow? Our lives are different, my paths are crooked and hard to find amount the dreams that grow into trees and weeds, shading the paths from visibility. You end up in writing being of such importance that my stoic demeanor would not reveal, why make vulnerability a trait you can see when you will only exploit it. My comforts are gone and so is any feeling in my limbs, my stomach is mercifully shedding its remaining pains.
We are not one but two, you see. Now more than ever you are changing in front of me and I don’t know if this experience will bring as much to me as to you. You want to taste all the apples in the orchard while I rot away with my worms and shading myself from the sunlight. Or perhaps I am wrong and I am just too high to reach, this is the impression I at least wish to create. Every song plays the tune, we are done, perhaps too soon.

I suppose we are all the most frightened of crippling emotional pain, that creates voids and tears, because I am too old now a days to cry when I skin my knee on the pavement or bruise myself.
I suppose I fear the day when I am caused pain, which in turn i create a sensation of 'mal a laise' in the world.
this morning when I left the apartment I felt that familiar feeling of being alone and the air looked like 2 summers ago in Paris and my stomach was gurgling last nights beer and I felt like I hadn't left that moment, or perhaps simply had not returned to it in a very long time.
I wonder how long of hours and days pass before time makes us quitters because time makes us forget too.
I am trying all I can to create an illusion of happiness but here is the weather and here is my headache from every possible source that usually stirs them up. here is my headache full of woe, here is my stomach ready to empty itself on your feet. I feel like a vile source of evil and bad energy, here is the emotion of shiva the destroyer, the one who creates to destroy.

I'm in love with a boy who's eyes are sparkling knives slitting through my body, ripping my stomach to shreds, like a guitar king, like every boy I have ever loved.
the distance is increasing and I feel it increasing in my mind, but in my heart, whenever i think of every mole and freckle, every hickey i stained his body with, i feel an incredible sense of warmth, like i was being held the same way as a month ago.
the times he called me after the ladies I most admired he knew how to give me those subtle compliments that amount to more than just you are pretty, albeit i heard that one often.

i get wheacvy boots when:
- you dont always tell me you love me. actually you dont say it anymore at all unless I say it first.
- i realize i wotn be in the south of france this summer.

up and leaving me to this cold foggy city alone.
i feel constricted in my breathing patterns, in the tightness of my chest, i know i am loved, i feel so abandoned, and like i know I cant have you, which i cant and this makes everything so much harder.
i can't decide between two philosophies, well truly between choosing my own destiny and choosing what is meant to be and between the fact that everything has been written on a big scroll of papyrus in heaven and that I have no control over what I am doing. and who is to say that perhaps it is a mixture of both? perhaps i speak my choices and thus my destiny is formed.
all i know is that last september i met him and today i left him, for a world alone, for time to think and write. it's a different emotion than i have felt, because i feel so close, joined perhaps and at the same time, the distance is infinite, theres a time difference.
what hurt me the most is that we are not trying, yet we are, just maybe not fighting. i suppose i am a fighter as much as anything and i am not used to not getting my way. my stomach is a mixture of acidic fluid that tempts in waves that say "oh he loves you so much, he will do anything for you" when in all reality when they crash it ends it in sarcasm and laughter.
i feel nervous to face the next few days, to face the music i will hear and to face every place we have kissed, i still remember them all.

here i am slavng underneath the moon and thinking of romance, romantic songs, last kisses, last dances, last days ever straining.
i am moving back to my parents abode, to which i say hurrah for today. the bus rides are long dark and sweaty but my thoughts are plentiful a many.
i am dreaming about turkey, and colourful mornings,and the cultural rich sad state of russia that i want to see and expirience.