Today in “my friends know me”

look at nate’s exquisite eyebrows tho. can you blame them.
I dunno what to tell you but like, “blame” wasn’t even on the list of options

eclectictsunami replied to your post“First observations upon beginning to rewatch Gossip Girl:”

chuck bass and sebstan fighting over nate. amaze
gimme these gummies
I mean, come back here

rgr-pop apparently the gummy array at the dep includes these, now

First observations upon beginning to rewatch Gossip Girl:
  • everybody’s fancy rich kid phones are SO ABSURDLY CLUNKY
  • you can immediately and incontrovertibly derive the identity of Gossip Girl from like ten minutes into the first episode when Dan Humphrey is first referred to as “Lonely Boy”
Going through my makeup bin; never gonna get over the name of this lipstick shade

Going through my makeup bin; never gonna get over the name of this lipstick shade

this is AMAZING. i also grew approximately a foot the year that i was 11.
10-12 used to be my favorite age range to counsellor for at summer camp, and nobody else ever wanted them, and I love it so much. Everything is in bizarre transition and the girls in your cabin group are all within three months of each other but you have four children and four Teens, and life is so so so heavily contingent, and the right voices at the right time can do so fucking much
2. what was your aesthetic/signature look at age 11? elaborate with all the embarrassing details, this is very important

I was 11 in 2000-01, when bell bottoms had started getting big again for whatever reason, and I had like three pairs of Mudd Jeans brand ones that I got at Building 19 the discount chain back home that used to sell recovered merchandise from, like, bankruptcy proceedings and warehouse fires, it was in the Harborlight Mall right across from the shady mall bar(oh, South Shore) and down the strip from the arcade so AB’s older brother J would drop us off there and then go hang around the arcade with his best friend and we’d hang out in Building 19 and jump on all the beds and steal slightly stale offbrand candy and buy, like, Sabrina the Teenage Witch books and also these bellbottoms, which cost like $10 and one pair was multi-denim patchwork? and one pair was a greenish dark denim wash with front pintucks? and one pair had striped ribbon running down the outer seams.

Anyway I’d wear those, and I had a bunch of tie-dye from summer camp and a handful of old embroidered, like, traditional folk blouses from the old country that my yiayia had for some reason bestowed upon me, and she was teaching me to sew so I’d make these absurd peasant blouses with like bizarre animal figure batik that I got from God knows where, or like tiny Laura Ingalls Wilder nightgown florals, and I wore headkerchiefs.

For the latter few years of elementary school, I had always worn giant oversized tee shirts and the handmedown baggy boy jeans, and for some reason had decided it was aesthetically important to never tie the laces on my gym shoes. In seventh grade, when I was twelve and going on thirteen, MW dyed her hair purple for the first time and we bleached AM’s in the bathroom at my place before my mom got home from work, and MW’s older brother gave us the Blue Album and MM’s older sister gave us ‘Never Mind the Bollocks’ and Everything Fucking Changed, but for about fifteen months: crookedly handsewn peasant blouses, tiedye, bell bottoms, headkerchiefs, and those same dirty scuffed ripped gymshoes, but with the laces TIED, now, I was in MIDDLE SCHOOL, it was time to be a GROWNUP, GOSH.

It is perhaps also important to note that I grew almost a foot in this year and a half and gained maybe ten-fifteen pounds during that period.

1. what’s your favorite poem?

I do not know the answer to this question because there is no answer to this question becuase what is a “favorite,” what is a “poem,” what is an answer to a question of preference when it’s getting written down and someone might read it like 20 seconds from now when it’s not true anymore, but like, LR and I both almost cried in the bar the other night about “Homestead” by Eireann Corrigan ( so maybe that’s the most recent qualifier even though it’s not even the poem I like best from that book