wear palettes: mustard

A schoolwork essay.

Still your cheesy erections till I have had my say. For one thing, I don’t get why you schmucks seem to dig wp so much, but also I am not really interested in the cheap psych of some colonized arty-farty enthusiast, unless random clever metaphor. It is rather sweet of some of you to write e-mails and comments – you should however insist somewhat more on it; and I would like to mention here, if anyone of you feels like transferring outrageously huge amounts of money (outrageously huge amounts of money = outrageously huge amounts of money) to my bank account, you shall do so by contacting Mr.wp. Not that I really need it, but whatever I can do to keep you from looking like a post modernist clown by buying those shoes, suits, ties, pants, hats, socks, lingerie, jeans, dresses, vests, tops, socks, bags, rucksacks, shirts, skirts, redingotes, ringtones, socks, etc. ad infinitum; I am more than willing to do.

Unlike you I have not been touched by the angels (euphemism for stupidity, q.e.d.) and I do not flatter myself by gobbling down some vacuous aesthetics principles read in fashion magazines as vogue or gq, or books that have been written in the last sixty years. I have no respect for you gucci, prada, dior, hermes, louis vuitton, armani, zara, ralph lauren, lagerfeld, dolce and gabbana, yves saint laurent, yamamoto, versace, burberry, fendi, gaultier, hugo boss, galliano, valentino, massimo rebecchi, tommy hilfiger, jack sparrow, dan brown, haute couture, shopping, vip, runway, prêt a porter, vintage, design, creative, winter-spring-summer-fall season session, makeup, hair, costume, sewer lovers; you are very close to my ideal imagination of a dog.

Nicholas de Fleury