The ‘80s have been back for quite a few seasons now, but there seems to be no stopping this trend. In past seasons, designers have referenced the decade’s big shoulders and glam hues. This season, many designers brought in acid-washed denim. The trend kicked off in New York, with Proenza Schouler sending out a bevy of almost whitewashed denim dresses, trousers, and jackets, and culminated in Paris, where Chanel, Dior, and Stella McCartney jumped on board.
I don't actually think these events really happened to me, but they'll still come to mind when I think back on a time when a secondhand event seemed to hold some kind of truth that reality did not. Example: I felt all weird and drifty at the beginning of last summer, and when I try and revisit that place, I don't literally imagine the view from behind a car windshield and how everything must look to the narrator in Yo La Tengo's "Today Is the Day," but I sure remember the exact sadness that it captured.
An argument for the past-life theory might include this anecdote: A drawing I did in my journal of how I remembered the backyard of my boyfriend's house looking on a night that it was snowy and dark included a metal swingset. The next time I went over there, I realized I'd only imagined the swingset, though he later told me that they did have one when he was little. My mom then told me that our family almost bought that same house before I was born, meaning that, in that timeline, I would have known that metal swingset, in that backyard. 
Every show season has its must-have handbag and Spring/Summer ’18/’19 is certainly no exception to this rule. However, unlike previous seasons, the latest “It” bag isn’t defined by its shape. Instead, its size is what sets it apart from the rest. Shrunk down to fit no more than a phone and lipstick (if you’re lucky), this season’s most lust-worthy bag is also its smallest. So, if you value style over function, be sure to invest in a miniature version of your favourite handbag. As a bonus, you definitely won’t have a sore shoulder from toting around this style all day.
I keep a list in the back of one of my journals called "Moments of Strange Magic." It contains events that were either (a) just really, really happy (jumping around to Beyoncé with friends) or (b) aesthetically cohesive and perfect and synesthetic (driving through the desert in a blue convertible to Nancy Sinatra's "Bang Bang" past a bunch of neon-sign motels and trailer parks). Each event is marked with a symbol indicating whether it took place in real life, a movie/TV show/book, or my imagination. Examples of some imagined (b) ones would be: sweaty teens in shiny pastels dancing in unison at a wood-paneled, tinsel-covered community-center room to "Snowqueen of Texas" by the Mamas and the Papas; a view from the side of a guy walking down a school hallway to Frank Ocean's "Forrest Gump," passing lockers painted in the 1970s and a ton of muted, rowdy students; a girl submerging her head into a tub of red hair dye to the chorus of St. Vincent's "Cheerleader."
There’s a good reason why tailored clothes cost so much – they fit perfectly. A few inches here and there make a huge difference, so don’t hesitate to visit your tailor from time to time. If you’re out of ideas about what you’d like to sewn for you, you can always alter the clothes you have bought. Make friends with a good tailor – it will make the whole process much easier.
“Love sexy shoes but not interested in getting blisters and the pain? Use moleskin on your feet. I cut six strips before I go out and keep them in my purse. Then, the minute I start to feel any pressure in an area, I apply it and I avoid any issues. I haven’t suffered from blisters since college. Being unprepared in heels is a rookie maneuver!” —Ms. Lowe
Where do these episodes come from? A past life? An innate discontentment with everything life already offers, combined with a form of voluntary synesthesia developed from an adolescence of perpetual loneliness manifesting itself in movie marathons and an inconvenient impulse to pay attention to every visual and auditory detail of every situation as an escape from the social interaction at hand?
"Well, really, our memories are all we have, and even those we think of as "real" are made up. Art can condense experience into something greater than reality, and it can also give us permission to do or think certain things that otherwise we’ve avoided or felt ashamed of. The imagination is where reality lives; it’s the instant lie of backwash from the prow of that boat that we think of as cutting the present moment, everything following it becoming less and less "factual" but no less real than what we think of as having actually occurred."
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