2005. When the structure of math or the insanity of religion appeared to be real we left the classroom (Black like a tempest and me like a breeze) for some SS Ann Demeulemeester at Barneys. She used to steal a box of Vosges Haut that we shared while walking down Wilshire Blvd.
Eight years later outside the same Barneys. 81 degrees and I don't eat expensive chocolate but smoke six Camel Blue. As I enter the doors the blood in my veins turns into ice tea.
"Can I help you miss?" The salesclerk asks.
"I'm looking for something cool to wear at my grandmothers funeral." I say.
Maybe I should get a cloud from Margiela Fall 2009 to hide my head from ppl who don't understand me.