Wedgies aren't worth it.

Ideally, every blog post I write would include some sort of relevant commentary on the current state of fashion.

I'd pontificate about the decline of individuality, the fascination with impractical footwear, the monetary motivation behind trends - a whole slew of heady and wholly thought-provoking matters.

Not ideally (i.e., realistically), I instead choose to share with you what makes me happy. 

And I think, at this point, you've probably got a pretty good feeling for what that might be. 

Aside from awkward British comedies (Cemetery Junction, anyone?), sleeping with the window open, and early-morning pumpkin chai tea lattes -- I'd say that oversized Irish sweaters, leather booties, and obnoxiously-printed pants are currently pretty high up there on my list of favorite things. 

And if fashion is about comfort - which, in all truth, I believe that it is - I've gotta be the chicest chick around. 

Nobody looks cool when they don't feel that way - and effortless style gets incrementally less effortless with the more effort you put into it. 

Luckily, with my power paisley pants and grandpa's sleeping-bag-in-disguise oversized (well, regular-sized I guess really) Irish sweater, 

I'm not only confidently quirky (ignore the obnoxiousness of this word, please) , but dangerously comfortable too.

pants: Free People, sweater: gpa's (similar), boots: Zara (cool wedges)

And that's the real ideal, right?

Relevancy is wonderful - 

until relevancy starts to give you a wedgie and permanently numb your poor and unsuspecting pinky toe.

So, 

today I present to you comfort, in all it's gabby-esque glory. 

Cheers.