instead, i missed the boat and settled on ordinary, slightly trendy, somewhat-styled, mostly comfortableness. it's an awkward middle-ground.
i wish i was the personification of vintage fashion.
my closet would be full of incredible outfits and handbags and shoes.
i also wish money grew on trees.
then my windows would be outfitted in drapes made of scrumptious fabric. and my bed would automatically double in size, grow a headboard and sport a fluffy, down comforter.
i just used the adjective "scrumptious" to modify the noun "fabric." okay then.
other times, i want to cut my hair into a retro shag, dye it purple/red, get a tattoo sleeve, wear severe eye makeup and drive a restored 1967 mustang convertible. it would be turquoise. or pink.
i would perfect the art of tearing fishnets in just the right spot to accent my hardware-heavy black knee boots. i'd wear dark red lipstick and leather wrist cuffs. i'd dabble in the art of wearing really short, jagged bangs. i'd always be the perfect combination of artsy and trashy. my mustang convertible, by the way, would have white leather seats.