Love,
Dominique

Structuralism and therewith Postructuralism are two theoretical methods that mostly concentrates around language and the structure of language (hence 'structuralism'). However these methods can also be applied to analyse human cognition, behaviour, culture and experience. As you might've guessed, Poststructuralism comes after Structuralism, where 'they' start critiquing and building upon the Structuralist way of thinking.

'They', better known as important people who've developed this way of thinking, are:

Structuralism

• Ferdinand de Saussure (1875-1913)
• Charles Sanders Peirce (1839-1914)
• Claude Lévi-Strauss (1908-2009)
• Roland Barthes (1915-1980)

Poststructuralism

• Jacques Derrida (1930-2004)
• Michel Foucault (1926-1984)

Below I'll give you the basics of Structuralistic and Poststructuralistic thinking with help from none other than the tartan print! (Text and images are taken from a Pecha Kucha I held during one of the Fashion Theories classes on Popular Culture).


Ferdinand de Saussure says that language is relational. You take a signifier (a physical object like a sound, printed word or image), you add a signified to it (a mental concept which bears no necessary relationship to the signifier) and you get a sign (aka the end result of the two). Simple!


So we'll take for instance the word TARTAN. The first thing that pops into your mind is a pattern consisting out of criss-crossed horizontal and vertical stripes most probably on a red or green background. This brings us to the sign: a fabric with a tartan pattern on it.


However the signifier TARTAN + the signified criss-crossed stripes on a red or green background can also make you think of the sign Scotland, heritage, military, tradition, kilts, skirts, fashion, Alexander Mcqueen, Vivienne Westwood, punk, aggression, making a statement, and on and on we go.

But what does this mean?

Saussure says that meaning is the result of difference and relationship, and that this is made in a process of combination and selection. However -as demonstrated- the sign or meaning can differ, contradict and change depending on the who, what, where, when, why and how. So for instance:


TARTAN + criss-crossed stripes on a red or green background IN SCOTLAND = a Scotsman in traditional costume

TARTAN + criss-crossed stripes on a red or green background JUST WALKING OUT OF 430 KING'S ROAD AROUND THE 1970s = Vivienne Westewood and friends

TARTAN + criss-crossed stripes on a red or green background ON THE CATWALK = Stella Tennant during the 2013 Chanel pre-fall show

Strauss and Barthes realized that basically the way we perceive TARTAN is something that's not fixed. On top of that Barthes says that dependent on the location, historical moment and cultural formation 'we', when confronted with tartan, receive a different sign.

Context plays -thus- a crucial role in finding meaning. Therewith Barthes states that meaning is made out of two layers, namely: Denotation, the literal meaning, and connotation, the implied or suggested meaning. So let's take for example Johnny Rotten from the Sex Pistols. Johnny didn't shy away from some tartan and wore it on many occasions...


Denotation:
Johnny Rotten gets to be defined as the stage name of John Lydon, who was part of the English punk rock band the Sex Pistols. He's also known of being part of -and start of- the punk movement in England.

Connotation:
He's being associated with music, trash, punk, aggression, Anarchy, abuse, DIY, fashion, tartan.
But also male, Irish, English, British, singer, songwriter etc. etc. etc.

As you can see, denotation vs connotation is often a 'battle' between literal vs emotional. The connotations you have with an 'object' or signifier again depents on your own bubble of knowledge. CONTEXT IS EVERYTHING.


This brings us to Postrstructualism where the slogan "Meaning is always a process", is being held high. According to Derrida: "Meaning depends on structural difference but also on temporal relations of before and after." This socalled process will lead to an endless play of signifier to signifier.

So: tartan, Scotland, heritage, military, tradition, kilts, skirts, fashion, Alexander Mcqueen, Vivienne Westwood, punk, aggression, making a statement, and on and on we go.


To stop the process of signifier to signifier, Derrida says you'll need CONTEXT. Context, so he states, is always very important. However even within context you can't fully control meaning.

To demonstrate:
The very word TARTAN has had different meanings and connotations, especially -in many contexts- of it being something very Scottish. However it's only around the 16th and 18th century that tartan is being seen as a woven cloth that specifically originates from the Highlands. And it could be said that today it's not even necessary for tartan to be made in Scotland and that the definition solidly derives from the pattern alone.

The Scottish Tartans Authority -yes, there's such a thing as the Scottish Tartans Authority- states that since the 18th century tartan has been commercially interesting thanks to many corporations who took the fabric overseas.


Throughout the years tartan has had almost no trouble in popularity and staying in fashion, because -says the Scottish Tartans Authority- of its close links to identification, tradition and heritage (of Scotland). But also because of its versatility (they've counted over 7.000 unique tartan patterns in their system) and mostly because of the individuality a tartan recalls.


The same words, however, can be said about the way tartan has been incorporated in the punk subculture and in (high-)fashion. Identification, tradition, heritage, versatility and individuality are also being waved around with when describing the use of tartan in punk and fashion.

This corresponds to Derrida's 'différance', which means to defer and to differ. Aka: words have multiple meanings. Through deconstruction you can show that assumptions about language and objectivity are flawed.

We know what tartan means because we understand patterns, stripes, symbols, repetition -which is not singular but repeatedly or 'to do again' which leads to undo, to retract or withdraw, to withdraw is to give up and to give up is to... know when you've had enough.


So to conclude:
"There's no reference point outside of text, no way to think outside of language, no correct or true word for actions or objects. There is no objective truth. There is no significance in the words themselves."

However I'd like to think that although there's no significance in the words themselves, the significance we attach to it -the feeling of for instance happiness, anger, confusion etc.- plays an important role in the way we present or think about for instance tartan in certain CONTEXTS.

Because may it be clear, CONTEXT is very, very, very important.


Yes, you can describe Scottish heritage, punk and fashion with the same words and therefore probably with the same significance we've given those words. But the intention behind them are certainly, most probably, different. Not necessarily binary, but contextually.

And that was -in short- a Structuralistic and Poststructuralistic view on tartan.

Love,
Dominique


Sources: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / And: The Language of Fashion by R. Barthes, Visual Guide: Fashion by G. Ambrose & P. Harris, Cultural Theory and Popular Culture, an introduction by J. Storey

I was quite apprehensive when starting Rachel Joyce's The Love Song of Miss Queenie Hennesy. Mainly because it starts with a hospice and cancer. Both things (and topics) I'd typically rather avoid. However, as it turned out to be, this book, this story, is anything but depressing. Yes, people die (even the odd suicide is thrown into the mix), feelings get 'complicated', but at no point whatsoever is the story depressing. It's a miracle, really. (It does however get sad sometimes). (And the ending is semi-depressing, but not full on, so....).


The Love Song of Miss Queenie Hennesy is -you've guessed it- about Queenie Hennesy who's a cancer patient in a hospice. The book starts with 'the first letter' she writes to a man named Harold Fry, an old colleague of her (and as soon turns out to be: so much more -to her at least). The main part that follows is a confession of Queenie. The confession that she always loved him, how she thinks she's responsible for his son's (David) suicide, how she searched for a new life (which involves a seagarden) and finally her life -and inevitably her death- in the hospice (not particularly in that order -it all gets fumbled around with). This all is set up against The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry, which is actually the first book Joyce has written around these characters. However I haven't read that book (yet). However it doesn't really matter, as Joyce writes at the end of the book (as a 'personal' message to the reader): "And for the record, I still would say that I have not written a sequel to The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry. I have not written a prequel either. What I have written is a book that sits alongside Harold Fry." Another perspective of the same story, but one you can absolutely perfectly follow without the knowledge of the other book. They sit together, but can be enjoyed apart (a bit like the 'relationship' of Queenie and Harold -never quite touching each other).



It's funny that I can actually relate -to some extend- to all main characters. Or at least: the drivers of the plot, the weird triangle-relationship between Queenie, Harold and David (by all means from Queenie's -and perhaps David's- perspective). Something I think that glues them together is their view, from Queenie's perspective, on the world (or how she experiences their 'being').

Queenie, among many other things, is making peace (or acceptance) with being ordinary. And as we go on with the story we actually are presented with a 'new' idea of being ordinary or just ordinary in itself. Because: what is ordinary anyway? And who decides when something (or better: someone) is ordinary? And as it turns out to be: every (seemingly) ordinary thing/person/activity/routine/whatever can be anything but ordinary -while perceived ordinary at the same time. It depends on how you look at it. Giving wonder to the world, perhaps. Putting the extraordinary in ordinary (without changing the substance of the thing/person/activity/routine/whatever). Small things (to not overuse the word ordinary) can be seen as something other or special just by looking. Actually looking. (And as later turns out to be morphine, but hush-hush about that). Therewith, as Queenie also describes throughout the book, a certain kind of language or habit that holds no particular meaning in broader sense but has in itself -within that particular context- a meaning that's only meaningful (in that way) if you belong to that context (or indeed are familiar with the meaning -or underlying meaning- something can signify).


However, like David, we want (or maybe even need) to be seen, to be noticed. To be special (and therewith perhaps even the need to be famous in some sort of way). Being other than others, being more than others. To escape from the ordinary (the beauty of the mundane). To just be extraordinary. Although it must be noted you can't write one without the other, which actually can in itself refer to the double-sided face of this 'need' to be extraordinary (at least for David): to be understood.

And then there's Harold, who doesn't understand (his son) and doesn't see (quite literally: Queenie, not so literally: unreceived love). And now, as it turns out to be from the start, this man -that doesn't understand, doesn't see- becomes the centre of the whole story. Not only by undertaking this 'unlikely pilgramige', but mostly by making the ordinary extraordinary and noticing, seeing, at least something. Therewith creating this otherwise forgotten place with forgotten stories and eventually forgotten people. Giving them a space, a moment to be alive (doesn't matter how much of it turns out to be the truth or morphine inflicted -fictional people are people after all, right?).



So who'd thought that people on the verge of dying in a hospice could be so entertaining? So full of life. Or at least in some way to give you an idea, an impression, of life. Have you ever met a nun (no) that's more full of useful (debatable) advice than (what turns out to be fictional fictional) Sister Mary Inconnue? (No, most probably because she's fictional fictional, but stay with me). Don't fight the fire, be the fire. Or quite similar: Don't wait for change, be the change. The latter being in the end a bittersweet component, making 'the third letter' -and therewith last letter- semi-depressing in the 'utterly dispirited way' (and no, that's not a death joke). Therewith -to add to the bittersweet taste of life (and arguably death -therewith arguably: isn't life and death the same? We know what life is because we know what death is, amiright?)- as I saw on Facebook (of all places): "Reality is wrong. Dreams are for real." Dreams I think being interchangeble with stories. The stories we tell, we think, we imagine.


Although The Love Song of Miss Queenie Hennesy was from the start an 'interesting' choice, I very much enjoyed it. I laughed, I cried and I related to the story and characters it presented. Some bits were too good to be true. Why did everyone in the hospice for instance died after a 'high'? After celebrating 'Christmas'? (Yes that one was faked, but still, the bloody neighbour finally showed up). After being married? After having a 'nice' meal together? After finally coming at peace with yourself? Honestly, I blame the morphine. Which is actually a funny twist of the story which makes you question everything you've read. Or at least everything related to the present -you've read. I've got faith enough in Queenie that the past is being left out of the morphine-hallucinations, but how about hospice life? How about Finty? Or Mr Henderson? Barbara? The Pearly King? What to believe? And does it actually matter? Does it matter that Queenie has written this confession which turned out to be unreadable? A confession that's been told, in a way? Thought about, in a way? A confession that's imagined? "Reality is wrong. Dreams are for real."

Love,
Dominique


What I'm wearing: Top + Skirt - Made by me (scroll further) / Havana Hat - Gift from my parents / Shoes - Doc Martens 1461 Vegan /


****EXTRA****

Are you wondering how you could make a skirt from your grandma's curtain? 
Don't look any further!

Grandma's Curtain's Skirt, to become -literally- a wallflower:

• 2x 1.40 x 0.94m one-sided (cotton) fabric/your grandma's curtain (this is cut with seam)
• 1x 0.46 x 0.15m one-sided (cotton) fabric/your grandma's curtain waistband (you can adjust to the size needed)
• A 20 cm zipper

Protip: Before you start working on your masterpiece, first put a needle at the upper side of the fabric/to-be skirt (makes it easier for you to recognise it).

• Because I've used the whole length of the fabric it wasn't necessary for me to make the sides nice and neat. However if you aren't in such a luxury position, please do that first.
• Sew one side of the fabrics together (remember what's top or bottom).
• Sew the other side of the fabric together, but leave a +/- 20 cm space for the zipper.
• Wrinkle the top of the 'skirt', using just a needle and some thread (to make the pleats). OR you could use this fancy setting on your sewing machine (which mine doesn't have, but don't you worry, you could also just use the setting with the longest gap) and sew about a centimeter from the top (starting at the zipper-side). Leave a long enough thread at the end. Now sew a second row, about a centimeter from the first row, underneath that. Fasten the loose threads on one side and start pulling, nice and gently, the other side, until the fabric/to-be skirt is as wide as the waistband (make sure the pleats are well spread).
• Put in the zipper.
• Sew the waistband onto the fabric/to-be skirt. Don't forget to stiffen your waistband, or do it like me (who forgot to stiffen the waistband): Fold the waistband, twice, to the inside. This way it'll be a lot 'stiffer' and about 3.5 cm wide. Sew everything firmly in place (first fasten the waistband by hand before going over it with the machine. Things tend to slip under your watch).
• Put a seam of +/- 2 cm at the bottom.
• Snip all loose ends and threads away (don't forget the pleating-threads) and you're ready to stand against the wall!

****EXTRA**** EXTRA****

Me vs The Rock
(sometimes we must suffer for our art)

Just some thoughts while I was procrastinating from what I actually supposed, needed, to do.

I was watching [this] Wisecrack video about Kanye West (because it's not like I've got a million other things to do that are more important than watching a Youtube-video about Kanye West, like, I don't know, trying to get a degree or something). Wisecrack is one of my favourite Youtube-channels because it asks questions like 'are celebrities even human?' and then they try to actually answer that question using philosophy. I could basically write twenty essays on every video they make, but unfortunately a half-baked blogpost must do the trick...

Within this video they, thus, question whether celebrities -specifically Kanye West- are human. Or not. Thereby not defining what it means to be human but what it (can) mean(s) to be 'someone', 'a person', 'a self'. Basically what makes me 'me' (or naturally what makes Kanye 'Kanye'). Something the narrator said around the end of the video really intrigued me: "People who we meet are never really who they seem, they are all performing in order to maintain damage control." And before that quoting Erving Goffman: "We are all just actors trying to control and manage our public image -we act based on how others might see us." And to throw another name in the mix, Charles Gooley: "We construct a 'looking glass self', where we become ourselves by mirroring how we want to appear to others." Through mirroring we not only create a 'self' or 'idea of self' that's based on what's being reflected, but therewith the reactions towards the action that we've 'put out'. So positive or negative, that what we need to put out more and that what we need to constrain in the presence of 'others'.


However, with celebreties the 'self' or 'that what's being mirrored back to them' is naturally different because the reflection is not only made up by those people (closely) surrounding them, but also the papparazi, media, comments etc. which modifies the image of 'self'. 'Self', 'I' becomes 'I' through that what's being reflected, reacted, back to it. As said, the amount of reflection/reaction/attention modifies or perhaps even mutates a 'self' which can be seperated from the 'real' 'self'. As done in the video, the idea or image of 'self' is splitted into 'self' and 'media self', whereby the latter is a more censored (perfectionistic/performed) version to be presented to the world. The danger herein naturally being that one self overshadows the other. And in many cases, naturally, obviously, the 'media self' overshadows the 'real' 'self'.

This same idea gets to be applied, in the video, onto (famous) Youtubers who arguably gets to be absorbed by the persona they put out in their video (and that what's being reflected through the mirror of the Youtube comment section, creating a sense of 'media self' or persona). However I think anyone who's on a social media platform already experiences a form (naturally less 'empowering' as Kanye does) of friction or seperation between the 'self' and the 'media self' without the need of being crazy-famous like Kanye West.


I was watching [this] The School of Life video about Stream of Consciousness (because, as I said before, it's not like I'm trying to create a better life for myself by, you know, living it, getting a degree or something). The School of Life is a channel that can really hit the right nail for me or just completely wind me up with their look on philosophy or at least the message they -in certain videos- try to 'teach' us. However on this occasion it's more a 'in between' situation. I was once again reminded how much of 'me', undeliberately, never sees the light of day. Naturally, as a 'talk to myself-er', 'pre-conversation-planner' and 'I'm going to die when crossing the street' kind of person I sort of feel more 'in touch' with my mind than this video implies. But then again, I've been writing this post throughout the day, piece by piece, stopping mid-sentences to write other sentences of what I want to talk about (or naturally: doing what I actually needed to do), also I just looked up Untouched by The Veronicas because the words 'in touch' immediately got connected in my mind with those violins at the beginning of that song, very dramatic indeed. This hopping and bobbing can be explained because, by the time I'm writing this sentence, it's already late -23:07 on Sunday the 11th of September- and all my concentration has been sacraficed for the 'hard work' (and video-watching) throughout the day, but still I feel I have some grasp on my thoughts because I'm writing this and therefore I try to think up words that goes with the once I've thought of before.


My main reason to mention this video is because it reminded me of how easy thoughts and feelings are being lost. As demonstrated: through other thoughts or feelings that kills the others, but also -mainly- through words. Or generally through expressing your 'self'. These words -as I'd written in a letter for Local Riot Magazine as a submission, which hasn't been published yet (and I doubt, when published, if mine will be published with it, worst case scenario: I'll publish it on here, because this will always be, I will always be, number 2) (and yes I'm going to semi-quote myself, be warned): that the words I use to try to express my 'self', to use as a way to say how I feel or what I'm thinking always seem/feel that they aren't mine. Or at least, after I've written them down, read through them, there's always a sort of distance -even though they're sometimes particularly 'emotionally fed'- between the words on paper and the words in my head. As I said in the letter, this could also be, quite literally, because I'm using foreign words. However it's funny because I often feel that these foreign words are much closer or better grasped, easier used, to express my 'self' than those I've learned from the beginning (anecdote: when writing the first assignment for this schoolyear I happily started tapping away in English, only to realise that I had to express myself/my 'self', my thoughts, my ideas and that of others again in my own language. And it was hard. I always write in English, for some weird reason. It's become not a second but first nature to me. Not to say that I don't make mistakes, (because have you ever read a blogpost of mine, they're full of errors, unfortunately, and every error will be mourned). But it has infected, I think, the way I think or the way I express myself through words. The way I built up my sentences or the words I use, or try to use, within my papers/essays/whatever).

"People who we meet are never really who they seem, they are all performing in order to maintain damage control."

"We are all just actors trying to control and manage our public image -we act based on how others might see us."

"We construct a 'looking glass self', where we become ourselves by mirroring how we want to appear to others."


To bring this, almost mandatory, back to the topic(s) I'm tackling to get that damned degree: it's believed that telling stories is one of the most human things to do (perhaps a way to define whether someone is human or not, in that case, Kanye, you're off the hook). However the great 'danger' of storytelling is that it leaves out all the rest. A story is not only constructed by having a beginning-middle-end, but also through general ideas or concepts that -in the larger scheme of things- gets to be seen as the truth. As facts. While in reality there's no such thing as facts as all that what's for instance being stated about a historical or social event is created within the beginning-middle-end-mold and therewith is always a product of something that's rationalised after 'it' happened (not even to mention the problem of perspective, the voice, the person, the 'self' who's telling the story in the first place). As mentioned [here]: "Storytelling may be a natural way of organising events but it is, at its heart, an ex-post rationalisation of events that were not neat and rational. The past, like the present, is chaotic, disorganised and fragmented." Therewith a statement that really resonated with me: telling stories is telling lies. And if being human is defined through telling lies and the 'self' is just a projection or mirroring of these lies, told to me, told to you, creating not only humanity but an idea of 'who you are' this all could be a dangerous act to perform and to built, construct a society on. However it's not, it can't be, all doom and gloom...

But as I stated at the beginning, this is only a half-baked post. It's 0:04, it's the 12th of September, it's Monday, it's another beginning (or in this case end) of a story, of a thought. Not as neatly wrapped, but then again perfectly half-baked. Goodmorning. (and how about that degree? At this point it seems rather impossible than improbable. Oh well. I should just keep watching...)

Love,
Dominique

 


I was watching [this] interview with Stephen Fry (and Robin Williams) from 2002. Stephen, I may say Stephen, was promoting a book -his book- on bears (Rescuing the Spectacled Bear: a Peruvian Diary, for those interested). Early on in the interview Stephen said something that really resonated with me:

"One thing's a point I was struck to make about animals, is that we are so interested in them. You know, we chase them in order to look at them and photograph them. But no animal (...) is interested in us.** And it occured to me, we are always trying to define what it is that human beings have that animals don't. You know: consciousness, wit, self-awareness, or how anyone tries to call it. But it is actually interest in other animals. And essentially a bear doesn't give a cuz about whether or not kangaroos exist. And kangaroos don't care that there's such a thing as a cockroach. But we care about all of them. It is a most remarkable thing."


The reason for this interest? Guilt, Stephen states. Bears don't feel bad about for instance how they behaved yesterday. They don't think to themselves "I have been a really bad bear yesterday". So our interest, according to Stephen (in this interview), is based around the idea of either trying to make up for our 'sins' or trying to find redemption by showing affection. Which therefore, I think, could actually still be seen as a 'hightened' or 'existing of' consciousness or self-awareness opposed to -in this light- animals. Because we are aware that we need to fill the gap, the hole we've created and try to bring amends by caring and watching and documenting. Therefore: are we hunting for ourselves?


Naturally the 'actual' hunting ritual could rather be seen as a sign of empowerment; humans above animals. Although, as Ellen DeGeneres ones remarked on her show: "I ask people why they have deer heads on their walls. They always say it's such a beautiful animal." There is still, depends on how you look at it, a token of respect, of amazement, of bewilderment, towards the existence of the animal that isn't directly bound to the idea of 'humans above animals'. That having said, as she continues: "There you go, I think my mother is attractive, but I have photographs of her." The differentiation made between what you can and cannot do with a human head opposed to an animal head is hereby a sign that within this admiration -that in one way surpases the 'division' between one and another; admiration-, it also reinforces this differentiation and perhaps even amplifies it. Because admiration, the interest for things that goes beside yourself, is in this sense still bound to the division what you can and cannot do to one thing or another. It's the division of it being a-OK to cut off the head of a deer and hang it on your wall, but oh dear if you nail your mother's head next to it.


Stephen Fry:
"What's magical about [bears] is that they just spend one-hundred percent of every minute of every hour of every day being a bear. And a tree-frog spends all of its time being a tree-frog. We spend all our time trying to be somebody else. (...) They are just one-hundred percent bear, whereas human beings feel we're not one-hundred percent human, that we're always letting ourselves down. We're constantly striving towards something, to some fulfilment."



To get back to my question (are we hunting for ourselves?): By trying to define the other, we are trying to define ourselves. And in this case thus the idea becomes that we're hunting for ourselves by hunting for others. Or to turn the tables, as Dejan Stojanovic has written in The Sun Watches The Sun: "You not only are hunted by others, you unknowingly hunt yourself." This in combination with what Stephen further stated in the interview (see above), creates a definition of self -or idea of self- that is not only bound to the affirmation of humanness (consciousness/self-awareness) from within that beams outwards. You being interested in animals, photographing them, hunting them and putting their heads on your wall, but also: You being the one looked at, photographed, hunted down and put on the wall. We do not only define ourselves through the interest -the guilt, the gap- we're trying to fill towards our own failing. But moreover we are also being defined by those looking at us. We exist, a version of us exist, within the interest (or perhaps even disinterest) of those surrounding us. Prey and predator, simultaneously standing at the right and wrong end of the gun. Also: being a human standing above animals and being an animal defined by humans.

• Yarn: 20x Phildar Impact 3.5 in Sapin
  1x  Phildar Impact 3.5 in Gris (50gr = 134m)
• 3.5 mm hook (surprise, surprise)

• Make 37 (classic) Granny Squares with a measurement of 17x17 cm
• Make 2 panels in Granny Stripe with a measurement of 85x9 cm
• Sew the squares together by crocheting -on the 'good side' of the square, as explained [here]- and as depicted on the pattern above.
• Now sew everything together into one whole (as -again- demonstrated on the pattern above), and ta-da, a jacket is born...

Love,
Dominique


*I know, I know, I'm like about two days too late with this post. Sorry. I sort of thought on Friday that it was Thursday (although I had an important meeting on Friday, which I had that day, which I still sort of thought was Thursday). Then I realised my mistake and thought 'well I will just publish it on Friday'. Aha. Yes. That would've been a smart thing to do. (But as you can see I didn't do that either. Oops.) So here we are, on a Saturday evening, eventually, finally, posting this damn post. I've actually had this post in the ready this summer (and the 'jacket' I'd already made, like, last year, notice how I stated in [this] post that I'd "keep you posted" with the progress of it... aha. I'm really good at this blogging stuff) but thought the subject to be too autumny. Boy was I wrong! Next week, these coming days, there's going to be another heat wave. NoooOOoooOOOoo! This means sitting in a cramped bus with 30+ degrees, sitting in a cramped train with 30+ degrees, sitting in a cramped metro with 30+ degrees and sitting in a small locked cramped room for several hours on a row WITH 30+ DEGREES. I genuinely hate it. It especially gets on my nerves when the news keeps calling it 'nice weather ahead'. THIS ISN'T NICE. I'M MELTING. IT'S BLOODY SEPTEMBER, THIS MEANS JUMPERS AND BIG COATS AND FLUFFY SOCKS AND CUDDLING WITH YOUR DOG AND NOT THIS. NOT THIS. AAAAHHH!!!! It makes me anxious about the 'dying world' and our near future of either being zombies, or, well, of just simply being dead. Anyway, I hope you liked this -a little bit different- post... *sigh*
**Can't quite figure out what word he's saying instead of the '(...)', but you get the point...

What I'm wearing: Jacket - Made by me / Top - Made by me / Trousers - Made by my mum / Bag - Vintage, given to me by Hilde Vos / Hat - H&M (old) / Shoes - H&M (old) /
Resources: 1 / 2 /