Sartorialist Pick Of The Day

The Inevitable Chasm: The Sartorialist

The more and more I stare into your eyes, I forget that you and I are the epitome of correction and the aesthete. We allow each other but so much, we allow each other to intensify what we deem the inner chamber of love, the love of fabrication, the love of individuality, the love of you and I. The warm gaze you wanted to offer to our communion is piercing, to a degree of the easiness found in the process, in which you coordinated your ensemble today. The process in which the stature of your body forms under the admirable cloak, that has brought you here as the most “fashionable” of today. I find immense pleasure in your skin, as if the brown warm hue of a cocoon’s exterior has crossed paths with the sun’s rays producing a hazel-angelic tissue, you have in the most glowing nature possible, was that too complicated?

I tend to romance these things, but the romanticism found in our choices of clothing is reminiscent of the connection we seek in our environment, a connection not always given, but reciprocated when we begin to romance ourselves, trust me they can tell. They can tell, you loved yourself today, the teal crown, adorned with the scalp of a Queen, you accentuate innately, this is something captured in honest interpretation.

The textured jacket loses its bold outlook and becomes a reclusive sense of security, as the teal from your blouse, floral children and clutch speak intrusively on the photographer’s landscape and under the seal of the dark “shawl”. We enjoyed this, you have as well, that is why your face labels me as the confession, I just remove judgment, I have nothing to judge, I have nothing, but what you have offered. I just wish I could have been there when you placed your first wedge on, and placed the first stroke of black on your fingernails and toes, no more woes, you have been chosen. Thank you.

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