LA girls, you are killing it.
Seriously.
Looking around I realize how good everyone looks. It’s tough because our city isn’t one in which we can all slouch around and show off our cutesy outfits to be mimicked and reproduced like a diluted game of telephone. Nobody walks. Nobody takes the subway. There is no general meeting area of cool (srry EchoParkers). Basically, L.A style is born in girls’ bedrooms, full-length mirror scrutinized, fashion magazines on the floor, closet door flung open and scraps everywhere. That’s how we do it. And we do it best.
There was a time when I bemoaned the state of our velour jumpsuited tastelessness. We were the red-headed stepchildren of the street style world. We were Ugged.
And now, we are on top. We can do the breezy cut-off, the dirty hair, the holey shirts, the pirate boots, the junkshop jewelry and the feathered headdresses better than anyone and we’re doing it right now.
LA girls, you are finally better than the limp-eyed moppets of New York and seeing as how they are our only competition you can sit back and relax with your stupid five dollar Chai teas. We’re still getting handily pummeled by Paris, Sweden, Iceland and Copenhagen but who can compete when they have such good hair?
Little LA girls, a special commendation to you. You little ruffians look spectacular. I don’t know where you’ve gotten such stellar style at such a tender age. It’s sort of puzzling. I didn’t look half as good, Lord knows when I was your age I thought stirrup leggings and puffy paint sweatshirts were rad as hell (they weren’t, but they kind of are now). You still need to fix your stick up the ass little attitudes and respect your elders, but you look fucking good so it all evens out.
Here are a few cute street style blogs to hammer my point home.
See for yourself.
this is why everyone hates bitches from la.
oh and everyone in america dresses just the same WAKEUP