When you hang out with me, you're also hanging out with my outfit. Bringing this up because the coat I posted about yesterday reminded me of an old friend (male, of course) who almost always felt uncomfortable being seen with me in my opulent faux furs, animal prints, and sequined hats. For obvious reasons; the fashionably unacquainted man assumes all lavishly dressed women are looking for the attention of 'potential buyers.' First of all, that is a myth, as most sex workers are undetectable and dress like anyone else. They don't have the privilege of looking too conspicuous. Second of all, insinuating that I look like a sex worker doesn't offend me or make me want to change my clothes. 'Sex worker' isn't, or at least shouldn't be, a pejorative. I know many very intimately, and the crazy thing is, so did my uncomfortable male friend. He simply didn't know because he didn't ask. So for future reference, I don't have time for the implicitly classist comments about my look, even if they are delivered in jest.
Unapologetically, this is me. Thriving in flashy metallics, plush whites, and Bruce Jenner's beautiful aviator aura.
24 HRS holographic snapback, OASAP crop sweater, Style Moi holographic wrap skirt, Alexander Wang bag, PinkBrix rings
Everything is infinite,
Bebe
