Not Quite Sunday Girl
hi this is what i look like these days. on my way to go see wanda jackson and the dusty 45s with sam and sarah. i swear usually im smiling like a fool. on sundays at least. i dont know when i started to like sundays so much. but it probably has a lot to do with julien and seattle’s recent onslaught of sunshine
hands on hips! skinny arms! pose! glare! pose! glare! hips! hands! glaring! posing.
“its interesting, here in the west everyone just sits mummified waiting for this freeze dried piece of music to come back to life.”
That’s why rockabilly and blue grass and johnny cash are awesome. nobody is still for that, and if you’re still for that, you’re probably a defrosting seattleite and sam will probably punch you in the face. or be tempted by the prospect. stiff crowds are an enigma to me. it is likely that growing up in latin america has me spoilt .
its too bad this picture is all pink cus if it were not so darn pink then you’d be able to see that wanda jackson is wearing a cropped pink fringe jacket (and a pompadour, but thats a different topic).
(but if we’re talking about enviable and drool a small bit on yourselfable awesome and superior winning outfits of stupid amazingness, take a look at debbie harry’s suit. so. damn. cool. probably makes french girls want to kill themselves.)