Unfortunately, I sincerely doubt that Santana would say that about this outfit because surely, surely the coy bee-shaped bobby pin and little white socks scream "perverted Japanese businessman with a very dark specific fetish."
We're not going to talk about the serious tan-fade on my arms.
Anyway, this is day two of the giant throbbing sinus congestion headache that was me last week, plus an unbearable Indian summer, plus standing in the Main Stacks past midnight (there were no seats... on a Tuesday night...) with Daniel, feverishly rifling through crusty Brythonic, Welsh, Cornish, and Breton dictionaries and grammar books, punctuating the library's rustling paper/shifting chairs/keyboard typing background noise with quiet little fits of "WHY DON'T THEY HAVE A WORD FOR 'ASHES'?!"(Actually, our library expedition was really fun. You should try it sometime.)
Dress: thrifted. Socks: Forever21. Shoes: Keds.
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