Oh man. Fucking Wes Andy suits.
Hand tailored by Marc Jacobs. So fucking authentic. So effing crispy.
Wish my friends were tailors and I was a movie director.
Look at those flap breast pockets. So icey. Thought pocket squares were cool? Fuck no. Did you forget where you were? A fucking Wes Andy movie.
Not even in character right now. Just laughing cause we so fly.
Our characters are symbolic.
“I can’t hear cause I crashed my bike and my bandages cover my ears”
“I can’t see cause I’m wearing my dead dad’s prescription glasses”
“I can’t speak cause I have a nasty stach all over my mouth”
Hear no evil. See no evil. Futura no evil.
We are Wes Andy’s monkeys.
Typing on typewriters.
The whole (third) world is a stage.
Aja: oh my god NOW THAT IS WHAT I CALL GLAMOUR
Cathy: I FEEL LIKE ALL OF INCEPTION FANDOM NEEDS TO READ THIS POST
Aja: this needs to be an inception macro post haste
Cathy: I KNOW
Aja: CAN'T HEAR CAUSE EDITH PIAF BURST MY EARDRUMS
Aja: CAN'T SEE CAUSE MY DEAD WIFE STABBED ME IN THE EYE
Cathy: CAN'T SPEAK BECAUSE I HAVE A BAG OVER MY HEAD
(YES I KNOW CATHY JUST POSTED THIS, IT NEEDS TO BE ON YOUR FLIST TWICE, THAT'S ALL I CAN SAY.)