Yugort, a band, and layers
Something both extremely awesome and horrendously awkward happened on my flight home yesterday. First: the awesome part, cause awesome is awesome. Awesome. I’ve been known to have a little anxiety when flying. I tend grip things really tightly: the seat, my leg, the stranger’s leg next to me. So, when a three piece band walked onto my flight all wearing plaid and sat in the three surrounding seats, I knew that I was going to make it to Halifax unscathed and perhaps, with a potential new cuddle buddy, the flight was still young at this point (I left the flight haven’t not spoken to either member of the band. Sadness.). Now: the uncomfortably awkward part. If you fly during breakfast they give you a snack box that contains some sort of tiny pastry and a yogurt. I was really glad about this. I was starving, this was good. The lady next to me however was not as pleased. For some reason, I vigorously shook my yogurt and when opened it splattered all over the woman next to me – in every orifice, piece of clothing, even her carry-on underneath the seat. Although, much like myself and the trio of plaid wearing starcrossed lovers that surrounded me, the raspberry yogurt and I did not meet. Which I think went on to further aggravate the lady. I offered to help clean her off but judging by the look she gave me she was either attempting a voodoo ritual by staring directly into my soul or wanted me to fuck off. I assumed the latter and so I did. Anyhow, neither of those things has anything to do with what I wore today but I thought who doesn’t love a good tartan loving band and split yogurt tale. Speaking of what I wore today, here it is:
First sweater hails from the freshest of Joes and the striped fellow underneath is all American Apparel all the time. Pants are also American Apparel, khaki welt pant. Last and sockless, loafers are vintage from Elsie’s.