Unlike my neighbor, my boyfriend is a fashion whore. A bit of a dandy, a popinjay, a person of fashion. Put it this way - one day some four years ago, he was getting dressed, discovered that a pair of dark blue Versace jeans (Versace, for Pete's sake!) had gotten hemmed a 1/2 inch too short and as a result looked kind of silly. If I remember correctly, he threw himself across his bed in what can only be called a tantrum. Before the tantrum could ramp up, I offered to take his jeans to Denim Doctor in Los Angeles (we lived in Los Angeles at the time) to have the hem repaired. Problem solved!
He doesn't fuss and preen much, though. I like that he doesn't have to try a bunch of outfits on; I think he plans them in his head and then gets dressed with ease.
It's the apparent effortlessness of his cuteness that makes it so... cute. I love the ways he mixes expensive things with inexpensive ones, like the $50 Swatch watch he wears. Like me, he likes what he likes, regardless of if it's pricey or not, and regardless of what other people think.
Here he's wearing jeans, an Ed Hardy tee shirt with a thermal underneath and a very old Diesel cap. I like the cap because "D" is my initial! That's why I like Dior, too.
2 comments:
Oh, you asked for it, Miss!
Just wait until I get home... you'll see a tantrum alright!
Hey, I put a black bar thing over your eyes! What's your problem?
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