squad goal gone American(ah)
There’s a place I used to know, we used to know, we still know. A place where pigtails and uncaged hearts skip. A place where childhood memories in the form of scrapes on knees aren’t erased by anp, a place where we were free, can be free, still, inner child. Day Four of Fashion Weeks takes this culture home, to us.
Noon by Noor’s varsity jackets and regal onesies were an ultimate statement of pre and adolescent youth combined. Not ever really wanting to grow all the way up, the hope for a docile café con leche, while still loitering along hallways and is more than a loose-fitting idea.
Lulled away into a fantasy dominated by a Superman Red, Baja East
felt all about the power of splash and expression. Holding nothing back, its conversation was uniformly attractive, pleasantly loud and incredibly close. That feels like a pourover, and this culture has time to wait for one, at a stooled bar in an American coffee shop.
Simplistic spring work wear for a lukewarm day, on the street on a lukewarm day, or a near summer hot weekender has us strapped in mod shift dresses, above the knee stat.
p.s. and for the late bloomer, preferring more water to our coffee, Sandy Liang’s girl gang is sweet, squad goal gone American[a].
There is the wind that can get the job done. However, hanging this culture out to dry Isa Arfen is not only dramatic, but gives those seated a reason to stay. There’s a story here of wanting, longing and escape. Consider us hearing it, to an imagined bottomless Bialetti.
At the end of it all, we say hang us out to dry, tie our hair with a bow, dress us in a boiler suit and lets play – king me!