Brazilian shoes

This time I did not do any of the shopping. That sounds wrong actually. Because I HATE shopping. I like to buy. I like to come into a store, go straight to the rack I need, or I think I need - usually it's the sales rack, of course. And tear a precious find off a hanger. Yummm. And grab it and run to the register, then leave the shop ASAP and go home, to enjoy enjoy enjoy. Combine and mix. Mix and match. I hate even going to the fitting rooms. Too many girls there. Too long of a line. I know what fits me. If it does not, I will make it fit me. I have no problem with that.




Yet I was poor on this trip, for the most part - I made some money but not till the end of it, so I did not buy anything, really, except this pair of shoes. Cream canvas, with golden strap. Lovely. This is the heel I can jump run and attack on. Good. There is a whole story about how I was getting them, it can be read in www.AnnaDoesRio.blogspot.com



Nevertheless, the shoes are mine now, and the next thing I will get is the itsy bitsy bikini to alarm the puritan and boring Americans on the local beaches. But that's not until the next trip...

Not your target audience.

I will never post any "runway" pictures in this blog. I just don't like this polished image the official fashion industry shoves down the throats of the modern women, by abusing the look of a hardly pubertate 14 year old girl with an ass of a 12 year old boy, and how modern women swallow this shit, and how some of them starve themselves and spend hours in front of a mirror, crying, only because the mirror shows only a few inches of leg instead of a few feet. I am sick of this.

Majority of women on the planet are NOT super tall, NOT super skinny, and NOT plastically enhanced. Majority of women on this planet are real deal, and this blog is the most real of all deals. I am not perfect, I am short, I have no boobs and my legs end after they barely just begin. I have NOTHING IN COMMON with that anorexic girl that is used to advertise the clothes to make ME buy them. Why?!! They want to make me WANT to be JUST LIKE HER. But I DON'T WANT TO! I want to be comfortable in my own skin, because I live once and this skin was somehow created for myself to spend the days and nights in. I won't get another one. I have to be happy with this one. And I am genuinely willing to! And the skin tight clothes that look oh so good on a semi-girl/semi-boy with no ass will NOT make me feel good about myself. And I am smart enough to realize that even by buying and wearing them I WON'T become an inch closer to looking like that ass-less girl. Who are they trying to fool? They disrespect me THAT MUCH? Why would I eat shit from them and ask for more?




I physically cringe when I see a picture of an extremely long legged vixen strutting her stuff on the catwalk. For this is not reality. It is a make shift reality that they shove into our brain, making us believe something we are not.

I loathe the advertising shots from Korean catalogues - where all the girls are as thin as my left hand pinkie, with legs growing right out of their ears. And I get extremely inspired when I see short, and sometimes bow legged, Japanese girls in FRUITS magazine issues. It's a total bull that an extremely polished 14 year old girl exploiting picture "sells the product". Not to me. I don't buy that shit. And I will never puke in my bathroom after a big meal. And the only thing I will allow myself to correct in my photos are colours and ZITS. Yes, zits. Because I have them. Because I am a human being and I am alive. I am not a picture from a glossy magazine, and thank DOG for that.

Lazy day on the roof

Not really a great example for the clothes-minded post, but hey, I wore this. Even if just at home. And I love my cat.



My hair is still suffering from the tropical climate consequences, and my yellow pants are Aeropostale. Tan is Brazil.

Brasil!Brasil! Brasil!

I have just come back from Rio de Janeiro. And although Pais Tropical does not imply wearing anything but bikini and kanga, here are a few photos of my modest traveling outfits.

Imitating Brigitte Bardot statue, in an American Eagle stripey dress... And my Converse. Of course.




Death by a huge avocado! HOLY GUACAMOLE!!!



In Santa Teresa, wearing my Alloy cherry dress and faithful converse.



In Urca, wearing my Heritage Mickey shirt, Urban Outfitters mini harem pants and Zara boots. Fresh off the plane.

CONJUNCTIVITIS

Yes. Hooray to me. I have the Pink Eye. On the first day of spring. I could not go take my assessment tests, could not go to the library, or to the doctor for that matter. Not a problem. I am sitting at home, washing my eyes with all kinds of teas (old school recipes) and wearing a pink skirt to match it.



Skirt - RODARTE for Target (I went to get presents for my loved ones, 8th of March is a huge upcoming holiday in mother Russia, and saw it, size 5 for Juniors and only 6 bucks, needless to say I snatched it). Shirt - probably a long sleeve from H&M. Vest - also from Target, bought centuries ago! And a belt from Melrose.



Pink Eye is infectious, it can be viral, or bacteria based. I don't know which one I am, since I was too impatient to hold on the phone when I called to LA county clinic, and just decided that I can treat it myself.



Hence, the cat and moi are left alone, contagious and bored. Too sick to study full force yet too healthy to just go to sleep. Go figure.