Ants in my pants

This whole week has been molasses slow, and yet now, at 10pm on Friday, I am getting antsy about... nothing in particular. So antsy.

Visited my old JCrew today and was asked to come back, and a big huge part of me squealed YESSS. Only a little, stern part of me says no. It has been 5 months and I still really miss it, doesn't that mean something? But how. How could I fit it in? My brain is quietly mapping schedules: "well if I open at the bank on Mondays..." What I so loved about that place was that my time there was a sweet mix of work/productivity, leisure/play, restraint, and just a pinch (sometimes a dash or two) of indulgence. Big fat sigh.

I bit the bullet and bought a body form. This project is one I refuse to abandon. Clothing is a great love and dream of mine, and so I will embrace this tall, clunky foam torso as a part of my life.

Something newer that has fallen into favor: stay up thigh highs. They are amazing! And actually stay up! My H&M pair do anyway. ($9.99). The secret sexpot attitude of the lace tops goes well with a particularly girly Essie polish of mine, Peep Show, which, incidentally, was made exclusively for JCrew.

no ants in these DVF pants pls.

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