“Our shirts are simple, and they say one thing: ‘home.’” reads the company’s website. “By combining that statement with the border of a state, the impact is instant and you stylishly confess your pride for the state you call home.”
For canucks like me, we can stylishly confess our pride for an entire COUNTRY: Canada.
Not only does the Home T use high-quality American Apparel tees (those really soft ones — you know the ones,) a portion of the proceeds for every shirt sold is donated towards multiple sclerosis research. Guilt free purchase. I dig that.
And now, because I never did actually blog about it (SORRY, STUFF HAPPENED) here are my photos / tweets/ grams from World Mastercard Fashion Week Spring / Summer 2014. Thanks for all of the show invites, homies
I’d like to start this post with a disclaimer: JK. I’m a blogger, not some fancy arthritis medication. I’m not going to disclaim anything. Who does that? Pfizer, that’s who.
Instead, I shall straight up TELL YOU that I’ve worn a lot of stupid stuff in my day. Wild things. Overpriced things. Straight up ratchet-looking things. Let’s just praise Jeebus that Instagram OOTDs weren’t a thing when I was in high school.
The hat I’m wearing in the image above? It’s not ratchet. It’s a freaking Brian Lichtenberg from Kitson, come on meow — is Cara Delevigne ratchet? Is Jourdan Dunn ratchet? Is Miley Cyrus… you know what — nevermind.
Thug lyfe, guys. Clearly I am bad news. pic.twitter.com/VGxpRH6XiA
— Lauren O'Neil (@laurenonizzle) November 7, 2013
I got kicked out of Brassaii (some douchey club on King West) for wearing that beanie on Wednesday because “NO HATS ALLOWED” and also “GIRLS WHO REFUSE TO TAKE OFF THEIR TOQUES IN DA CLUB WHEN BOUNCERS YELL AT THEM GET KICKED OUT.”
I got kicked out. To be fair, I was lippy. To also be fair, they were decccccks about it.
Whatever, Brassaii. Your grabby bouncers are gross and King West is now even lamer for me than it has been for every Torontonian with a chill bone in their body all decade. You make me vomit! You are the scummmm between my toes! Love, Alf-alfa.
And speaking of gross, behold -> Pee Pee Leggings!
These “Neon Yellow Melting Tights” from URB Clothing actually exist and you can totally buy them if you want to walk around looking like you’re cartoon urinating all day long.
Hey, to each her own — I wore this last night:
Gosh darn am I ever cool.
Shwings! If ever they start shipping to Canada, I’m going to turn some of my Chucks into fly-shoes and satisfy my Icarus fetish once and for all.
C’est tout. Now, please gaze upon the aforementioned adidas x Jeremy Scott JS Wings 2.0 “Pixels” and have sweet, sweet dreams about yourself KICKING BRASSAII IN THE FACE WITH THEM as I’m about to.
I’d totally get kicked out for that, too.
And by “street” style, of course, I mean “huge field in the middle of nowhere” style. But that’s cool. That’s what festivals — the best festivals — are; people and artists and wiiiiide open spaces where the bass can bump loud and blogger girls can do stuff like this:
I was dead sober too, swear to rave-god (Is rave god a thing? I’m not a raver.)
Without further ado, the best / funniest of what I saw at VELD 2013:
— Lauren O’Neil (@laurenonizzle) August 5, 2013
And us, the flyest of all. We actually plotted out our “death order” on the way home. You know, the order in which we’d be killed off if we were starring in a horror flick.
For the record, I’m the sole survivor — and I get a sequel.