I can't remember being cool

At one point in time, 

I think I felt a little bit cool.

 

I don't know. 

Maybe it was the inordinate amount of attention I was getting for acting like an idiot in public,

or my diet's strange influx in edamame,

or the fact that my once broken hip was finally starting to heal  ... (#lowstandards)

but for a brief period there, I was feeling kind of good. 

I mean- look at me. 

Flippin my red hair around, 

pretending my boyfriend gave me his suit jacket to throw over my skimpy little dress. 

(insider tip: He didn't)

It's precious, really. 

But nowadays, I look at these photos and don't even recognize the person in them. 

It's strange — how fashion can at one point feel so instictive, and the next so foreign.

I mean: I know that this was me, 

but I certainly don't feel that way. 

NYC has a way of taking you off whatever pedestal on which you once sat

and reminding you that you are

in fact

one in a trillion. 

It's tough to feel like you own the city, 

when the city's so good at feeling like it owns you. 

Even so- 

I still believe that it's the folks who can maintain their sense of independence, ownership and ovearall badassedness  - despite being beat down by the heavy hammer of weighty egos - that end up killing it here. 

Because I do know one thing for a fact : 

The cooler you feel, the cooler you are. 

[Or, per Jenna's sage advice: 
the less cool you know/embrace you are, the cooler you are]

Done deal. 

So maybe it's time that I go buy myself a too-tight dress and a boyfriend oversized blazer

and pretend, once again, 

that I run this shiz. 

shoes: windsor smith, dress:?, blazer: vintage

Cheers.

DIY

Jacket: Vince
Dress: Parker
shoes: Schutz