Kate Moss must be some kind of fashion savant because her mouth does not work right. No wonder she pulled a Garbo for so long. Ace move sweetheart. Way to play to your strengths.
I have been mentally obsessing over this 2003 spread. Am I jonesing hard for the early 2000s now that we're leaving this decade in the dust? Bay Garnett is my azimuth compass. And that compass is telling me it's ok to wear sweats with gigantic Wilma-sized pearls.
When I stay in bed all day eating bon bons and watching In Treatment, sweat pants begin to become a concept I toy with. Why not sweatpants? Tell me. And I mean real shitty high waisted 50/50 cotton poly blend $9.99 at K-mart sweatpants, not luxury cashmere blend Rick Owens that need to be dry cleaned or handwashed. I am talkin' super-laze for the girl who does her own laundry. Ones that if you put in the time with become as soft as old flannel. You gotta do the work. It is a process!
I have been dealing with themes of Madonna levels of fame and how you stop giving a shit about looking hot all the time and start being real and wearing silk boxing shorts with freshly showered wet hair because they feel amazing. Take Julian Schnabel por ejemplo, oh the Toronto premiere of my new film? Sure I mean I'll wear a blazer over my silk pyjamas. Of course. 2011 is all about going wherever however you want.