There are a lotta issues (or as I like to call them, ‘ssues) out there, like disease and lost dogs and the weird banging noise coming from your neighbor’s apartment. But one ‘ssue that is the biggest ‘ssue to me as an Upper East Side philanthropist is HOT PINK.
The Hot Pink Industry provides over $19213 million dollars to our economy per year, and 2-7 jobs per freelance banker. And that is why I am #showing #my #support for Hot Pink with this Sophie Hulme coat, which I got from the world’s most magical store, Dagny + Barstow.
That is the face of a hot pink warrior, who gets the saddies beyond saddies when people trot around in black all the time like it’s Halloween and they’re dressed as Jane from Daria dressed as a black cat during the Super Bowl blackout. (Hintasaurus: that’s next year’s big costume. You heard it from me first, folks, and I know the future of blogging.)
You know what I think about that costume?
That’s what I think. Even when I’m in the pleasant environs of God’s country.
Now let’s look what happens when it occurs to me that everyone could band together and all wear hot pink all the time:
See? That’s almost the face of happiness. It’s not, because you can sort of see in my eyes that I know these exist and yet I don’t have them, but you can see how I might be, for just a minute, approximating happiness. And that’s all due to Hot Pink.
Those are also some fancy shoes I have on there. Here’s me exercising in them:
They’re kinda scuffed because they’re dove gray, like the wings of an angel who has clearly never heard of Hot Cheetos or coffee or hot pink gin (COMING SOON??) and is therefore not worried about getting stuff dirty. But that’s kind of punk, maybe? Which, like, punk things are getting rarer than Vermeer paintings. Please punk out when you can, honestly.
And wear Hot Pink. #pizzasez