When I was younger, I was a fashion hipster. I wore what I wanted and I didn't care what anyone thought. I was too young to believe into the lies that our culture feeds us that what others think about us defines who we are. I had outfits that the worlds top designers couldn't put together. Or wouldn't due to closed minds and a fear of judgment. My favourite thing was tights. Sometimes on my head, as hair, but mostly on my legs where they belong.
That polka dots shirt was the bomb.com
Panty lines were in, ask anybody
Now my love affair with tights has come back to me in a sudden wind and I cannot get them off my mind. And I wouldn't want to.