moving this to TUMBLR
http://tulletulle.tumblr.com
see you there <3

link

click
here
and
here

link

old pictures of vivienne westwood
style.com

..

going through the hundreds of hedi slimane photos i have saved for a post on the other blog
this is not even half of it

School is really just a part of my day I get out of the way. It's the first part of every Mon, Tues, Wed, Thurs, and Fri. Then when I get home my day begins, and I start doing the stuff I ACTUALLY need to know for my future. School is not my main focus. It's..middle school. It shouldn't be.

one
two
three
four
(i know how to count though!)

chicago gang cards from the 70s/80s

jethro cave by hedi slimane
slimane website

"Rumbling voice and nicotine knit sweaters containing soft breasts like dollar bills folded too many times. She would scrub my scalp with shampoo singing "I'm gonna wash that man right out of your hair, I'm gonna wash that man right out of your hair, and send him on his way..." in a lilting accented voice. Her bony fingers with too many rings hit my scalp and I would wince but not say anything while my sister cried from the soap in her eyes. Because I knew that she tried.

I knew about her colour-blind husband and his beard and his sparkling eyes. I noted the dust on his hands and his heavy, laced boots.

Dear M,

I remember you talked of taking me and my sister to see your house and I pictured a one-floor place with a fake swan on the lawn and pink bedding and a picture of Jesus somewhere. And the smell of bacon and cigarettes. It made me squirm. It was all too strange and yet I wanted it more than I let you know.

Dear M,

One day my mother sat me down on the stairs. The carpet was red and scratchy and witness to countless occasions of life-changing importance. It seems my family doesn't like to use rooms. I pulled at the carpet and remembered a time when I sat crying on the stairs while you whispered "There there my wee pet."

But, anyway:

She's going, mother said. Some relative of her husband has died and now he's an earl. They've inherited land back in Ireland.

All I could think of was castles.

And then we said good-bye but I never saw her leave. I imagined her in opaque sunglasses and a private jet, clinking glasses of life-affirming champagne. She looked like Grace Kelly in my dream and seemed like a hard polished diamond that I never had a chance to hold. She glimmered and sparkled and I wondered where she'd gone."

by maddy (i love her)

john ryan solis