PLEASE PRESS PLAY AND READ.
So, let's get this out of the way. I'm old. Old-ish. Probably too old to be starting a blog. BUT. A blog about love, heartache, music, art AND my love of vintage and vintage inspired clothing. Why not. Age aside; let's get the weighted topic of love out there, and out of the way. I fell in love with Morrissey when I was 15. It was the mid-ish 80's and although my heart belonged to him and to his sweet sweet lyrics that both swooned and enabled me to embrace my melancholy-ism Morrissey was the beginning of my never ending path of sabotaging my very vain of existence towards matters of the heart, 'CAUSE Morrissey and Hi...I'm a girl. And, although I don't believe Morrissey is technically exclusive to the gender I am not...it's MORRISSEY. Still...STILL, I believe (almost thirty-ish years later) he would love me if he got to know me, because although most days I feel like the dredges of doom and gloom hover like a son of a bitch over my darkly shrouded starting to lose pigmented hair I'm still awesome, and how could he not. Tho', and I say this with utmost certainty...I would most likely, certainly would, hate him like I have hated no other man, because it IS Morrissey. JK. Love you Morrissey.
(Insert girlie, too old to sigh, breathy sigh HERE)
Morrissey (fun) fact # 1: He no longer performs in Canada because of the Canadian seal hunt.
Fact: I am Canadian, and I do not hunt seals.
This leads me to expectations. F**king, mother f**king, expectations. I have those. I may have high ones.
I have been told.
I expect things.
To want to hold hands in those moments when walking down a street, especially in the dark quiet of a summer's night.
A kiss on the forehead.
The lips for no other reason than a need in the moment.
Butterflies even after you want to punch their mouth.
A kiss instead.
A hand written letter about nothing.
A hand written letter about everything.
Maybe that moment they realized they couldn't not NOT be with you in any moment.
That in that moment states they kinda wish you were here, but you aren't, because you can't be, even though, EVEN THOUGH, it's the only place you kinda wish you were, too.
"I don't think I'm asking for much," she shrugs, her lips in a crooked half smile.
And, Morrissey if you are reading, take note please.
P.S. I'd accept flowers, too. <3
P.S.S. An actual bed, with a real mattress, is always nice, as well.
DRESS: Banana Republic via Valu Village, $14.99;
Tights: Old Navy, $6.99 (Not shown: the foot decimated by my dog due to her extreme love/sometimes hate for me.)
Pet hair also included in photos: free.
All images copyright © 2017 PamperedTart. Steal my images, or my artistic concepts, and karma will bite you in the a**. Hard.