I am a lazy blogger and a busy non-internet human so my outfit posts are sporadic at best. So technically I wore this over a week ago, but it is very very rare I am out and about (in the Tuileries, Paris, bitch) with a camera and a friend to use it. Hence it stays. I love my Nikes. The french didn’t. I always think I love these jeans til I wear them and halfway through the day I realise I like the idea of them. D’oh.
Hmm, do I have a point? Here’s me wearing clothes. In a foreign country. Just out of shot are a load of disapproving looking French people wondering why on earth I look like houndstooth threw up on me. And lace. And denim. Although later that day I went to the most amazing vintage shop in the world and met the nicest man ever – calm down, he runs the place. He didn’t judge me for looking weird. Which was nice of him. The shop? Adom in Bastille. It is quite simply my favourite vintage shop in the whole world – so much so I dragged Julie around the whole of La Marais for about three hours trying to find it only to finally realise it was the wrong district. Ooops. Hey, it’s not my fault all those pretty Parisian streets look the same. I found the best boots ever but alas was too poor to buy them, so I am currently negotiating with nice man (speaking francais over the phone is DIFFICIL) to send them to me. Cross your fingers for me.
Oh, and I need to get some clothes that are not American Apparel. Literally 70% of my wardrobe is Apparel. I don’t know how I feel about that.
Jacket, Thrifted; Shirt, Tshirt worn over, Jeans, all American Apparel; Nikes, Nike
