On the hunt . . . are you this girl?
Recently, I was eating in Crackbird on South William St – where, really, I seem to eat all of the time lately, and always order the same thing*, and love and hope it never closes – when I asked a …
Recently, I was eating in Crackbird on South William St – where, really, I seem to eat all of the time lately, and always order the same thing*, and love and hope it never closes – when I asked a girl next to me where she got her cuff. It was a gorgeous, studded gold show-stopper, and teamed with her black leggings and oversized white shirt, she cut a very Lykke Li figure.
Then, because I’m a creep-slash-fashion-blogger, I took a picture of said cuff, from Forever 21. Then I ate some soy garlic chicken, thought about her a bit, and got even creepier when I asked if she was a model. She wasn’t – but she should be, which is where the internet comes in! I want to find this girl. Not because I want to marry her, although wouldn’t that be sweet?, but because I want her to model in a shoot for me. (I’m not a porn director, for the record, I’m a stylist, and I think she’d be perfect for a shoot I’m thinking of . . .)
I want to find this girl. So please, pass this around, retweet it, Facebook it, help me find her! Just ‘cos.
* In case you wondered, if there are two of us, I go all macho 1980s dude and order for us, and I get: half soy garlic chicken, chilli chicken crunches, potato salad, slaw, burnt lemon and whipped feta dip (by two!), srirracha dip (by one) and a rhubarb lemonade. I let my partner choose their own drink. I’m nice like that.