If my sense of style were a dog,
it would be this one:
|source 1, source 2|
Simultaneously frumpy and luxurious.
And if it were a piece of candy,
it would be this:
but with a surprisingly satisfying twist.
If my sense of style were a scene in nature,
it would resemble one of the below:
|source 1, source 2, source 3|
Basic colors with
And if it were a personal journal it would be this one:
Elementally basic, but obnoxiously packaged.
If my sense of style were a city street,
it would look like this:
Busy but peaceful,
vintage but modern
And if it were a milkshake,
it would be something like so:
Comforting flavors in unexpected iterations.
If my sense of style were anything more than a sartorial representation of my inner self, it would be seen as a "like", or a "hobby" or an adorable little quirk.
But in its current manifestation, it raises concerns about my narcissism, my vanity and my shallowness of thought, in a way that no milkshake infatuation ever would.