let me read your palm

My budget for this outfit was, oh, $2. I got the shirt on my first visit to Salem, when I was 12. (That weekend was the very beginning of my craft: upon returning home, I declared myself a Wiccan, and I have never looked back.) When it ceased to properly corral my post-pubescent bosom, I cut it into a more flattering shape. The head scarf and the dress (yep, that’s a dress) were both mined from my mother’s closet sometime in high school. The only thing I purchased, I believe, I was the belt. I feel my vintage cred soaring.

I realized that my webcam takes much better shots than my flip phone. Here I am in my parents’ house. (I am currently between apartments, but I hope to move out in a month at the very latest.)

My shoulders, collarbone, and upper chest are my favorite parts of my body. I ought to wear more boatnecks. I felt sexy in this one.

Esmeralda always was my favorite Disney heroine. (One of my best friends actually is a Gypsy. Liam, am I doing it right?)

The skirt is heavy, and kind of shapeless. I ought to modify it one of these days. I experimented with a couple different shapes. I like the idea of ruching the stripes into contrasting angles. Like a Shiz University uniform. Susan Hilferty won a Tony, after all.

I ought to take more pictures outside. I grew up in these woods.

(Now I’ve gotten myself listening to Wicked. It was the first musical I ever memorized.)

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