there’s nothing quite like riding top-down shotgun through darkened city streets, craning your neck toward the buildings and the black. eyes up, full trust. it’s a rather intriguing view of the city, to parallel the sky, like treading a whole new plane. an exhilarating freedom when the wind whips across the neck. an odd sensation when cool night hits the nose.
but by god what a disaster it leaves our lid wherever we arrive, a puffy mess of blondesque tangles. bangs frozen backward. a true helmet of hair. not hot. while we’ve successfully sourced (and over-utilized) a floral print turban (found at vintage69) our selection of scarves as headdress remains largely untouched, as we seem curiously unable to tie the fuckers. en retard.
then we stumbled upon this little wrap-up, via god knows who writing god knows what (it’s a browser orgy over here). nevertheless we like it, the simple how to scarve. turban number one is our primary objective, to be experimented with post-haste.