Tell me. Why is it so hard to style shredded boyfriend jeans?
I spent the bulk of last night with piles of shirts on my bed. My mind organizing this beautiful mess, wondering how to look effortlessly decent. Despite endless scrolling through Pinterest, I found nothing. Boyfriend jeans are tricky. The only baggy jeans I have, and ripped as well.
Three hours passed and I gave up. I tossed the shirts on my already messy floor, and fell into deep, dead slumber. Shredded Boyfriend Jeans are a beast I cannot defeat.
Yeah, still haven't.
My friends gave these jeans and the bag for my birthday. Both from Something Borrowed, Zalora. This is because I "don't have nice clothes." They say with a smile, and hope I start dressing cooler. Jokes on them, because I dressed like a mother in attempt to be cool than actually cool.
At the suggestion of my own mother, I brought a pair of flats in my bag. Aware of past experience with long walks and longer heels, I knew I would need it before the day ended. The beautiful black pumps were five inches of masochism. My feet turned red with blisters. Perhaps the false sense of confidence from artificial height isn't worth it.
I'm kidding, it was worth everything. Towering over friends feels nice, almost powerful.
At the suggestion of my own mother, I brought a pair of flats in my bag. Aware of past experience with long walks and longer heels, I knew I would need it before the day ended. The beautiful black pumps were five inches of masochism. My feet turned red with blisters. Perhaps the false sense of confidence from artificial height isn't worth it.
I'm kidding, it was worth everything. Towering over friends feels nice, almost powerful.
Scarf : Shawlbyvsnow | Shirt : Zara | Boyfriend Jeans : Something Borrowed
Leggings : Logg | Heels : Zalora Basics | Bag : Something Borrowed
I spent the day out with friends, gallivanting around my town I rarely explore.
It's been ages since we spent time together. It was nice to reconnect and enjoy the company of old friends. Almost as if time lost was found. Almost, there was still a lot to discuss. Work, life and the hullabaloo that none of us could comprehend. The day was not meant for work, life or hullabaloos. It was meant for laughs, disappointing mozzarella sticks and long walks.
The day ended so quickly. As if time found was lost again, with so much to discuss about us. Old friends with so much to talk about, but so little time. I keep myself optimistic though, knowing I have their numbers stored in my phone. They're a call away if we ever needed to talk. Perhaps then we'll have plenty of time and a plethora to discuss.
So how do you keep in touch with old friends?
