bitchin

we had just sat down to blogette away when we looked up to see our mug being interviewed on oh so cosmo. we were draped in jewels at the house of harlow for holts event, asked to share our opinion on the collection. and while we will take this as a reminder to angle to our good side when next en-camera (our oversized nose somehow more aesthetically pleasing from the left) we think we’ll save our jennifer grey rantie for a rainy day.

a more significant revelation came from hearing our own voice.

those of you who’ve had the pleasure undoubtedly know what’s next. we possess a distinct sort of intonation, in our defense acquired by years of accent soup while bratting our way around the world every two years as a kid. try mixing a british accent with new york, jersey and chicago (throw in some holland) and see if you don’t fare much better.

and though a few might liken it to the dreaded girl of the valley (how cliche) upon numerous rewinds we’ve realized that in fact it’s much worse. we don’t sound like a dumb blonde. we sound like a bitch.

the voice you read here each day (fine, fuck you, every other except weekends) is the same voice with which we live the day. we couldn’t suppress it if we tried. but if we have so offended along the way with our tone, do find it in your heart to forgive. it’s just our accent.
[image stolen from we heart it]