rainy, cold day spent lounging with the bricoleur, finishing a fantastically weird novel, making endless steaming cups of green tea, and online window shoppping.
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| barlow's first novel is a novel-length free-verse poem about werewolf gangs in LA. no shit. it's moving, weird, and deliciously noir. |
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| screw the litas i was waiting to give myself for xmas. these babies are screaming for my feet. jeffrey campbell two-timer wedges. image via oaknyc. |
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| bonadrag nails it again. lindsey thornburg druid hood, reversible mexican blanket- black cashmere. all for the mountain phalanx necklace. images via bonadrag. |
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