Tuesday, May 10, 2011

they're card-carrying communists and beat their wives.

super cool berlin street style. i looove those worn in boots.

can't get enough.

white dreams....

big gaudy floral bows are best. 

sometimes you just need as much of your surface area on him as possible. 
sometimes you need that on a dirt road.

trampoline squaw. 


jean griege
kill them with kindness
stardust and sequins

i love his writing style.

Naturally jeans! Or can you imagine a life without jeans? Jeans are the greatest pants in the world. For jeans I’d give up all of the synthetic rags in Jumo that always look squeaky clean. For jeans I would give up everything, except maybe for the finest thing. And except for music. I don’t mean just an old Handelsohn Bacholdy, I mean genuine music, people. I didn’t have anything against Bacholdy or the others, but they didn’t exactly sweep me off my feet. Of course I mean real jeans. There’s a whole pile of junk that just pretends to be jeans. If that’s all I could get I’d rather not have any at all. Real jeans, for example, don’t have a zipper in front. There is only one kind of real jeans. A real jean wearer knows what I mean. That doesn’t mean that everyone who wears real jeans is a real jean wearer. Most of them don’t even know what they’re wearing. It always killed me when I saw some twenty-five-year-old fogy with jeans on that he’s forced up over his bloated thighs and then belted up tight at the waist. Jeans are supposed to be hip pants, I mean they’re pants that will slip down off your hips if you don’t buy them small enough, and they stay up by friction. You naturally can’t have fat hips and certainly not a fat ass, because otherwise they won’t snap together. People over twenty-five are too dense to grasp that. That is, if they’re card-carrying communists and beat their wives. I mean, jeans are an attitude not just pants. Sometimes I think that people shouldn’t be allowed to get older than seventeen—or eighteen. After that they get a job or go to college or join the army and then there’s no reasoning with them anymore. At least I haven’t known any. Maybe nobody understands me. Then you start wearing jeans that you don’t any more have a right to. It’s also great when you’re retired and then wear jeans, with a belly and suspenders. That’s also great. 

-excerpt from The New Sufferings of Young W 


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