American Eagle shorts. Guess blouse. American Apparel hair tie. Tahari sandals. Leather bag from Argentina. Express belt.
It's always harsh when innocence and childhood must come to an end, and often those lofty ideals of happiness are interchangeable. Having been a dreamer for 17 years, only to have your rose-colored glasses ripped off leaves you with nothing but the garish light of day (oh Phantom of the Opera, how wantonly I steal your wisdom!) that dreams and childhood fancies have painted over in every brilliant shade of magic.
Do not mistake this for depression! It's only a Peter Pan crisis...which should be up there with the Middle Age crisis as a life-changing hormonal phenomena inducing erratic behavior such as, but not limited to : buying up all childhood toys again, rereading childhood novels, having to deal with real world things and choosing to act on escapist tendencies instead.
And this is exactly why school should not start on August 1st. It simply forces me into a cocoon of introspection with a depressing, if hauntingly beautiful Lana Del Rey soundtrack. This may or may not have been inspired, if tenuously, by "National Anthem" - loving the retro look recently. Also, I can no longer wear shorts because I have the arms of a gorilla and anything shorter than an Amish skirt is shorter than my fingertips...so I sizzle in the sunshine.