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Affronted by a (practically) nonexistent warning sign, the weather-beaten plastic dangling idly from a nearby telephone pole, clearly stated, Private Property . Even though our previous attempt at this location resulted in a prying patrol car… the graffiti mural, a derelict carcass of a once prominent amusement park, was obviously too wicked to pass blindly. Sprinting around with certain schoolgirl giddiness, the ridiculous amount of camerawhoring was starting to feel like some new Olympic sport. But before finally fleeing the scene, we noticed the black and red letters smeared across the far right side of the building that perhaps claimed an excuse to previous visitors. ' The Devil Made Me Do It' . Disturbing to small degrees, it did seem outwardly apropos to our deviant trespassing acquisition… our forbidden spray paint entertainment. (Vintage sequin butterfly shirt, Betsey Johnson tights, F21 skirt & jacket, Bakers fringe boots)
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Must've been feeling a bit Guns N' Roses... With the celebratory catawampus winding down like an elderly jack-in-the-box leftover from the fades of childhood memory, we meant for a subdued and only mildly scandalous New Year’s Eve. A slight difference from the model of fulsome traditions, our intimate dinner party--fully fledged in the company of my love child camera, tippy top hats, and cocktails--came in with a whisper and went out with a bang. And as I stare to the horizon of 2009 and to all the rock’n possibilities sauntering forward with the New Year… a smile washes over. And into this vast internet superhighway, warmest wishes go out to The Minx and Fashionably Early , both ever lovely (!!!)… thank you for my blog awards. Colin Stuart ankle boots. Tripp studded gloves and shredded skinnies. Vintage (faux) caplet. Nordstrom-Savvy scarf.
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