Feather in My Hair

Blazer, Charlotte Russe (overdyed by me). Tank, Apt 9. Skirt, Thailand. Sandals, Nine West. Metal cuff, Pangaea. Wooden bangle, swap. Feather pick, Home Emporium.


I’ve commented before on the fact that I work in a very tolerant office. I get away with some pretty crazy getups at work. But that doesn’t mean that people don’t stare. Silly me, I forget that I’m wearing something outrageous and wonder why people are watching me walk up the corridor. I wonder if perhaps I’ve tucked my skirt into my underwear or if a booger is hanging out of my nose. Then I say to myself, “Oh, yeah. I’ve got a big ol’ feather sticking out of my hair. No wonder they’re staring.”