Some people were born rich. Most of us were not. I thank my parents for a very comfortable upbringing with few to no real complaints. But I’m not wealthy, if you were wondering.
Many of us dream of a parallel life where maybe we’re a bit more stylish, where time is spent mostly at leisure. Ice cream has fewer calories in this universe. If we didn’t do this, we wouldn’t be in this economic crisis. We wanted more than we could pay for and as long as bankers were willing, we figured we’d go for it.
More evidence lies in the intense neediness and want of escape every time I get my paws on a new Anthropologie catalog. Yes, life should consist of standing in a Kyoto subway station looking like a very chic mental patient with an oversize satchel; not standing in my mail room looking like I just made a midnight run for ice and Midol at a 7/11.
This blog won’t necessarily be about being monetarily rich. It’ll be a witness to my parallel life: descriptions of things I covet and wishes in the ether. The name of this blog is tongue in cheek, so wonder no more. Please. If anything with my entries, wonder less.
So, World. Here’s to the beginning of my style outlet. Take of it what you like. . .