this weekend marked the official emergence of bras and ranties from our post-new year cave. we mottled our winter skin, returning with renewed gumption and new rabbit footed booties, reclusive chi of late having departed to make way for the usual trouble making, pink panther drinking self.
those aware of our twitter absurdities have already shared in our latest folly; a last minute party detour having led bras and ranties to an very public, very red lipstick smeared makeout session with a six foot six inched stranger. and weren’t we feeling rather delicious until mandatory morning-after facebooking revealed our handsome, eager giant to have been fibbing about his age. turns out our fresh-faced lad was not in fact three years our junior but seven. seven. color us more than slightly concerned we’ve corrupted the child.
and this coming week marks our final lazy days before we rest our hippie hat for a while. since we fear getting a bit gloomy, the plan of the hour involves a last minute jaunt to our favorite source of inspiration, nyc. we’ve been craving it. hopefully we can pull it together.
great posts up our sleeve, and we plan to write all morning amidst the chaos. hit us up. email@example.com