I feel like I am almost a decade too late with buying Dr. Martens boots, but re-living out the current collective idea of nineties teens is hip these days, right? Which, by the by, how weird is it that we as (young) twenty-somethings are ironically (but let’s be real: mostly in earnest) wearing a sartorial parody of our (early) teens? (I’m not even thinking about our culture’s obsession with youth.) How creepy is it that a large amount of the blogosphere is gushing over nineties style (which is vaguely disproportionate to how I actually remember it but apt enough so that it frightens me how quickly time has passed), and how weirded out will I be when I start seeing people gushing over early the early naughties which will surely happen soon? Has it already happened? And am I getting old now? and do I have to grow up? Do I get a cat and a house and a job? But these boots are so comfy, and all of the sudden that’s all that matters, and is it a sign of becoming an adult? and what happened to me. Remember when all I wore was these ridiculously high heels and really tight pencil skirts which seemed almost like a harness to keep myself together because I felt so horrible all the time? No you wouldn’t, because this blog didn’t exist then, and is this blog just a meta way to keep track of time and subsequently a reminder of mortality and death? But wait.
There is a tiny, tiny sad violin playing on the background now, can you hear it? But also: perfect dress, and so all is good.