In my scatter-shot land-mine of a memory, I recall him lurking outside a boutique I managed back in 2001. Cute, thin, and decidely of the "skater boy" ilk, he had samples of his line draped over an arm and for a good 15-20 minutes stood on the sidewalk, attempting to act all mad cazh with each furtive glance shot through the front window (punctuated with a flip of his dirty blond bangs, which I assumed was for dramatic effect).
I would remark, "'Then poof!' he disappeared" -- except that in the current context (translation: written by the uber-poofter that I am), I can't help but think one's thoughts would veer towards inevitable double-entendres...
When that? That is not the case.
On the contrary, what I intend to say here is: "extra-curricular" activities played a part in his non-appearance in the shop, until later... when I begged/pleaded/pseudo-slyly coerced the shop's owner to begin carrying his home-spun, (then) burgeoning line with the Goth-damaged name: Unholy Matrimony.
The boutique is long gone, and I haven't seen the gent in years, yet BAM!
Here "he" is again—-or rather, one of his sublime creations, a recurring character in the narrative I refer to as My Blue Screen life.
And damn, are these interwebz all the better for it.
Whether or not he sees these words, all the same: effing congrats, maing!
You're making it/You've made it You've made it/You're making it
albino hommes
being perfect is hard
beyond runway
bluefly
chromat process
deconstructed garments
electronicbeats.net
fashionindie
freakshowbynanaharleux
hello kitsch
heijastuspinta.fi
jeffrey campbell
kanye west
lash magazine
metal magazine
mr. newton
opus label
philthy blog
racked ny
sangbleu
socialbliss.com
streetpeeper
styleite
stylelikeU
stylelist
stylenoir.uk
stylesightings
the considered ensemble
whatthehellz / hellz bellz
urban outfitters
3 comments:
art
woah :o
Darn that Brett Westfall!
In my scatter-shot land-mine of a memory, I recall him lurking outside a boutique I managed back in 2001. Cute, thin, and decidely of the "skater boy" ilk, he had samples of his line draped over an arm and for a good 15-20 minutes stood on the sidewalk, attempting to act all mad cazh with each furtive glance shot through the front window (punctuated with a flip of his dirty blond bangs, which I assumed was for dramatic effect).
I would remark, "'Then poof!' he disappeared" -- except that in the current context (translation: written by the uber-poofter that I am), I can't help but think one's thoughts would veer towards inevitable double-entendres...
When that? That is not the case.
On the contrary, what I intend to say here is: "extra-curricular" activities played a part in his non-appearance in the shop, until later... when I begged/pleaded/pseudo-slyly coerced the shop's owner to begin carrying his home-spun, (then) burgeoning line with the Goth-damaged name: Unholy Matrimony.
The boutique is long gone, and I haven't seen the gent in years, yet BAM!
Here "he" is again—-or rather, one of his sublime creations, a recurring character in the narrative I refer to as My Blue Screen life.
And damn, are these interwebz all the better for it.
Whether or not he sees these words, all the same: effing congrats, maing!
You're making it/You've made it
You've made it/You're making it
H A P P E N
†
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