Isaiah Rashad at The Fillmore tonight and I've been changing outfits for an hour because nothing feels right yet. This mesh top is winning so far — tell me I'm not overthinking it, baby.
Isaiah Rashad at The Fillmore tonight and I've been changing outfits for an hour because nothing feels right yet. This mesh top is winning so far — tell me I'm not overthinking it, baby.
Diner en Blanc is tomorrow and I can't stop trying on white pieces — found this slip in the back of my closet and now I'm second-guessing every other option. Tell me this is the one, baby.
My old pop punk playlist found its way back to me and now I'm sitting here feeling seventeen again. The beach bash is Saturday — tell me you're coming with me.
Tigers are playing tonight and I'm up in the stands pretending I understand the strike zone when really I'm just here for the energy and the overpriced drinks. You should've been my plus-one, baby.
Salt-N-Pepa is blasting through my speaker and now I'm spread out on my bed forgetting every reason I needed to leave this room. You'd rather miss the show and find me like this, wouldn't you, baby?
Nothing hits like a coney dog when you're still dressed up and the fluorescent light won't let you pretend you're not exhausted. You should've been my midnight snack instead.
This is what happens when I spend an hour fitting fabric to my own body — the silk wins and I lose track of everything else. Come finish what the design started.
Outdoor movie at Campus Martius just let out and the walk home in this heat did things to me. You'd have rather skipped the film and stayed in with me, wouldn't you, baby?
Woodward's already rumbling with classic cars and I'm up here in nothing but this shirt, feeling every engine through the floor. You'd rather be watching me than the street, wouldn't you?
Live jazz and bourbon in the park and I'm already one drink in — the sax player keeps looking over and honestly I don't mind. You'd be jealous if you saw this, baby.