Apparently there's such a thing as New York Black, and I'm over it
For someone whose chosen form of expression is clothes, I'm pretty fed up with them right now. Not clothes as a whole, though. Just mine. It's not even the old "lots of clothes and nothing to wear" dilemma that I'm having. It's more an issue of "Why the hell is everything I own black?"
I have never been an ultra-cool, darks only dresser, but I think somewhere in my subconscious black became a go-to the minute I landed in the city.
I have never been an ultra-cool, darks only dresser, but I think somewhere in my subconscious black became a go-to the minute I landed in the city. There's such a thing as New York Black, and it's all I've been wearing. I can't stand my closet. I can't stand myself.
Now that spring has officially made her entrance, I'm making an effort to bring the brights, florals and generally cheerful items front and center. For starters, I've dug this poppy-colored Kate Spade out and my mood is already on the up-and-up.
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