Oh golly

Ah, sorry, it appears I have again gotten distracted with pretending to live in the 50s. I'm slowly descending further into the depths of madness these holidays. Alas what did I expect, really, when my only friends are Frank and Bing Crosby or something.

The other night I went to a weird party with my actually existing friends and we were talking about the way we dress. I really place a lot of importance on what I wear and how I present myself. I think it's all about confidence or something. You've got to dress and walk around like you're a model even if you're obviously not. I think one's image is about how you hold yourself. With a good outfit, good shoes, good hair and good lipstick it's easier to have that confidence to walk with your back straight and your head high. I was happy the other night because my friends were saying how impressed they were with the way I dress and present myself. That made me feel good because that means my efforts don't go unnoticed. Being an 'artist', I feel like everything should be aesthetically pleasing and I guess that's the motivation for getting up early to decide my outfit, or laying it out the night before. I love stuff like that. I love clothes.