breakfast in cemetery, boy tasting wild cherry.

(vintage blouse, random hat, thrifted purse and gingham skirt, topshop mary-janes) 

the only thing i like about ‘indian summers’ is the fact that there’s a beat happening song named after them. it’s a sweltering 97 degrees today, and i’m this close to curling up inside my freezer and taking a nap. i’d probably dream about wearing this outfit on a romantic picnic date where we’d feed each other strawberries, and i’d pick bugs off his lightweight cardigan. can you handle how sickeningly twee i sound? i can't.