Shirt: Vintage Yves Saint Laurent / Leather Skirt: Vintage / Shoes: Converse
I have this weird notion of fate when it comes to my sartorial choices.
Weird because I'm loathe to leave anything else in my life up to the whims of something so elusive, so devoid of concrete evidence of it's existence. Something that contradicts every logical thought that runs through my mind. Fate. What the hell is fate?
But, like I can't help but feel strongly about tweed, I can't help but feel strongly about fate. Of the sartorial kind that is.
Because of this strength of feeling, I've been known to leave something behind, as a way of testing the very fate I believe so wholeheartedly in. I did it last week.
I fell upon a denim shirt. A men's one, (of course), with a yoke and collar of a tan suede. Sigh. And on sale. And I walked away. In hindsight, total dick move. But my supposition that if I'm supposed to have it I'll have it, gives me this kind of bravado.
Yes, I can walk away from perhaps the most important denim shirt of my life, (is that even a thing, can you have an important denim shirt, rhetorical question because the answer is yes), and know that if it's supposed to join the growing pile of shirts already in my life, it will.
It wasn't. I went back and it was gone.
At this point, without my ridiculous belief that fate rules my wardrobe, I'd be curled up in a corner somewhere sobbing.
I mean, suede yoke people, suede!
But I'm not. Because, you know, fate.
Luckily fate was on my side when I scored this (Y)SL shirt and vintage leather mini. They were, obviously, meant to be.