I'm not in Los Angeles, but if I was, my savings account would be in big! trouble.

Keerstin Wintrup

Lusting like you wouldn't believe. Birthday me, babies.

Wildfox Couture

Kate Moss

Come Away With Me

"'Come away with me,' he said, 'we will live on a desert island.' I said, 'I am a desert island.' It was not what he had in mind." - Margaret Atwood

Mercy Fuck

East of Eden

"Maybe if I had loved him I would have been jealous of him. You were. Maybe love makes you suspicious and doubting. Is it true that when you love a woman you are never sure - never sure of her because you aren't sure of yourself? I can see it pretty clearly. I can see how you loved him and what it did to you. I did not love him. Maybe he loved me. He tested me and hurt me and punished me and finally he sent me out like a sacrifice, maybe to make up for something. But he did not love you, and so he had faith in you." - John Steinbeck

Black Is The New Black

All black ensembles never fail to make me weak in the knees. Swoon.

via: Jak and Jil

It's Raining In Love; Richard Brautigan

I don’t know what it is,
But I distrust myself
When I start to like a girl
A lot.

It makes me nervous.
I don’t say the right things
Or perhaps I start
To examine,
Evaluate,
Compute
What I am saying.

If I say, “Do you think it’s going to rain? ”
and she says, “I don’t know, ”
I start thinking: Does she really like me?

In other words
I get a little creepy.

A friend of mine once said,
“It’s twenty times better to be friends
with someone
than it is to be in love with them.”

I think he’s right and besides,
it's raining somewhere, programming flowers
and keeping snails happy. That’s all taken care of.

BUT
if a girl likes me a lot
and starts getting real nervous
and suddenly begins asking me funny questions
and looks sad if I give the wrong answers
and she says things like,
“Do you think it’s going to rain? ”
and I say, “It beats me, ”
and she says, “Oh, ”
and looks a little sad at the clear blue California sky,
I think: Thank God, it’s you, baby, this time
Instead of me.

Hanneli Mustaparta

Hanneli Mustaparta wearing some beautiful Bess jeans.

New DIY project? I think so!

via: Jak and Jil

Chris Jordan

"Exploring around our country’s shipping ports and industrial yards, where the accumulated detritus of our consumption is exposed to view like eroded layers in the Grand Canyon, I find evidence of a slow-motion apocalypse in progress. I am appalled by these scenes, and yet also drawn into them with awe and fascination. The immense scale of our consumption can appear desolate, macabre, oddly comical and ironic, and even darkly beautiful; for me its consistent feature is a staggering complexity.

The pervasiveness of our consumerism holds a seductive kind of mob mentality. Collectively we are committing a vast and unsustainable act of taking, but we each are anonymous and no one is in charge or accountable for the consequences. I fear that in this process we are doing irreparable harm to our planet and to our individual spirits.

As an American consumer myself, I am in no position to finger wag; but I do know that when we reflect on a difficult question in the absence of an answer, our attention can turn inward, and in that space may exist the possibility of some evolution of thought or action. So my hope is that these photographs can serve as portals to a kind of cultural self-inquiry. It may not be the most comfortable terrain, but I have heard it said that in risking self-awareness, at least we know that we are awake." - Intolerable Beauty: Portraits of American Mass Consumption

via: Chris Jordan

Love Hurts

"People are afraid of themselves, of their own reality; their feelings most of all. People talk about how great love is, but that's bullshit. Love hurts. Feelings are disturbing. People are taught that pain is evil and dangerous. How can they deal with love if they're afraid to feel? Pain is meant to wake us up. People try to hide their pain. But they're wrong. Pain is something to carry, like a radio. You feel your strength in the experience of pain. It's all in how you carry it. That's what matters. Pain is a feeling. Your feelings are a part of you. Your own reality. If you feel ashamed of them, and hide them, you're letting society destroy your reality. You should stand up for your right to feel your pain." - Jim Morrison.

Pierrot Le Fou

The Places We've Been

Love After Love; Derek Walcott

The time will come
when, with elation
you will greet yourself arriving
at your own door, in your own mirror
and each will smile at the other's welcome,

and say, sit here. Eat.
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you

all your life, whom you ignored
for another, who knows you by heart.
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,

the photographs, the desperate notes,
peel your own image from the mirror.
Sit. Feast on your life.

Kate Moss

Drea Faux Leather Tote

Bought this bag today.

Sekhmet, the Lion-headed Goddess of War; Margaret Atwood

Perhaps my favorite poem of all time:

He was the sort of man

who wouldn't hurt a fly.

Many flies are now alive

while he is not.

He was not my patron.

He preferred full granaries, I battle.

My roar meant slaughter.

Yet here we are together

in the same museum.

That's not what I see, though, the fitful

crowds of staring children

learning the lesson of multi-

cultural obliteration, sic transit

and so on.

I see the temple where I was born

or built, where I held power.

I see the desert beyond,

where the hot conical tombs, that look

from a distance, frankly, like dunces' hats,

hide my jokes: the dried-out flesh

and bones, the wooden boats

in which the dead sail endlessly

in no direction.

What did you expect from gods

with animal heads?

Though come to think of it

the ones made later, who were fully human

were not such good news either.

Favour me and give me riches,

destroy my enemies.

That seems to be the gist.

Oh yes: And save me from death.

In return we're given blood

and bread, flowers and prayer,

and lip service.

Maybe there's something in all of this

I missed. But if it's selfless

love you're looking for,

you've got the wrong goddess.

I just sit where I'm put, composed

of stone and wishful thinking:

that the deity who kills for pleasure

will also heal,

that in the midst of your nightmare,

the final one, a kind lion

will come with bandages in her mouth

and the soft body of a woman,

and lick you clean of fever,

and pick your soul up gently by the nape of the neck

and caress you into darkness and paradise.