For a Friday night: yielding home truths. Some say it best when they say nothing at all. I, on the right hand, say it best when I say a lot, or so I like to think. I'm a real talker; I was born with opinion in excessive measure, much to the dismay of many a soul, I'd imagine. Talking is what I do best. I would leave you to peruse three of my favourite looks from AW12 but my Friday night would subsequently be plagued by trepidation and anguish at the eventuality that there could be some kind of misconception re: what exactly inspires me about the Prada, Louis Vuitton and Marni collections. Don't tell me, I'm too cool.
I refer to these collections with affliction as more specifically, it is the dialogue between pattern, brocade and the amalgamations of heavily embellished Louis Vuitton that ring true with zia matta; my right hand (wo)man. That is, mad aunt. I have