I'm floating through a room of halls.

Wearing the colour pink is quite the rarity for me, but I could not pass up the opportunity to wear this dress last night. It was purchased at one of the bizarre dress shops on Yonge Street where literally every item is made of jersey, comes in all of the colours imaginable to mankind and is never, ever over $10. The likelihood of finding anything remotely wearable for anyone other than a streetwalker is often slim in these shops, but every once and a while my consumer impulsivity gets the better of me and I justify a purchase there by reminding myself that I am getting a new article of clothing for the same amount as I generally spend on two Grande Bolds a day.
The most messed up part of this story is that this experience actually makes me feel victorious and triumphant; whatever buyer's remorse is (I don't know because I'm pretty sure I've never felt it), it's the opposite of that...like a buyer's high.

Even though this fuschia minidress has been hanging in my closet for approximately a year, last night was the first time I've ever worn it out of the house. G and I had a meeting at a chic but grossly pretentious bar with a friend of a friend who owns a small gallery about potentially showing G's photography in the near future. And, as per usual when I have somewhere to go, I suddenly decide that I detest everything in my closet and would rather create a bonfire on the bedroom floor with all of my clothing than put on the same black smock again.

In this moment of rage/indecision/frustration/self-loathing, fuschia seemed like the best idea in the world, and I will admit that I again felt a small but consequential inner victory when complimented on it later in the evening by the $400 shoe wearing set.

^Note how extremely pleased with myself I look.

Wearing:
Dress: unknown, but it cost $4!!!
Coat: vintage
Shoes: David's
Hair clip: Target
Earrings: my own