Sweater - Topman factory outlet. Leggings - Cotton On.
Clogs - New Look. Bandana - Chameleon.
Snake ring - Diva.
Estimated temperature - 10 degrees.
I really really enjoy baggy clothing. Clothing is nicer when it's oversized and snuggly and I just don't have the type of figure for skintight clothes. I've never dared wear anything body-con in my life.
I feel loose clothing can be just as sexy, like when a woman wears a man's shirt or a tuxedo style jacket. Yum! And it can make a casual ensemble look acceptably fashionable.
Back home, I had seen some amazing men's sweaters in Topman that were loose and completely shapeless (and that would have looked ten times better on women than on men) but that were going into about $200, way above my budget for a simple sweater. So when I came here, I was delighted to find that there is a stall in school that sells Topshop overruns and factory outlet leftovers at a snip of the price tag.
I gobbled up this XL sweater for 12pounds. Let's all say that together. I know right? I love the heather grey, the tight but chunky knit, the pseudo-American eagle, the way the sleeves roll up into doughnuts. I love everything about it, not least that it feels cosy and you can basically throw it on and not think about anything else.
I paired it with leggings, but it also looks great with denim shorts and tights.
Also, how cute are these snub-nosed clogs? They look nice with everything, but as they're heavy and wooden and clompy, I swapped them for quieter black heels before heading out to the library.
And this funny thing happened to me: these ducks were situated on the hill next to me where I was taking my photos. They were quacking quietly among themselves, so I set up my tripod a little out of the way and was busily pressing buttons when I noticed an eerie silence had fallen.
I turned slowly (like you imagine they do in horror movies) and all the ducks had gone completely quiet and were staring at me. My heart started to pound, macam Hitchcock's The Birds. "Hi guys," I said nervously, trying to show them I meant no harm.
Of one accord, together, they turned to face me and started walking in unison, like a gang cornering a nerd in an alley. "Uh guys," I swallowed, but they walked, each taking a step at the same time and going "Quack. Quack. Quack.", one quack for each webbed foot that was placed in front of the other.
I think I let out a strangled scream at this point (anyone who has ever been attacked by a duck can testify to how NOT fun it is) and in desperation, I flung out my hands to show they were empty. "No food guys! I'm just here to take some pictures and then I'll go... heh... heh..." I was freaking out.
But then, as if they understood, they all turned back to the grass and started pecking about as if they had never seen me. Freaky shit.
I started laughing shortly afterwards because I was struck by the hilarity of mafia ducks, and I'm sure anyone who observed me would've laughed too, but deep down inside, I knew that a few feet closer and I would've been... wait for it... DUCK SOUP. HAHAHAHA!
PS Stay tuned because tomorrow, I'm attempting a massive mission to see one of my favourite musicians of all time... Rufus Wainwright!! And I hope to have an equally good story about that, duck attacks not withstanding!