Seeing this makes me sad for a few reasons. Sad that I'm not a long and languid Chloe girl, with blue eyes and freckles across the bridge of my nose, sad that I don't live in a perfect Chloe apartment with pegs for all my bags and armchairs for all my shoes, sad that I don't own metallic flats that bear no small similarity to Dorothy's sparkly ruby ones, sad that I don't work at the store I used to work at and that I won't get play with any of these on the floor with my friends, trying them on and dreaming of what might/could/won't be. Sad, sad, sad.
X
ps. I read Zadie Smith's changing my mind on the plane over here and she said that one thing she hates as a writer is the word 'languid', and now every time I use it I think of Zadie Smith and her writing wisdom bearing down on me... Sorry Zadie but I just love that word too much not to use it!
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