it's friday night,

… and I need somewhere to go just to wear this dress. But I suppose I need the dress first before I begin conjuring of sexy clubs to go to, non?

It’s a pity that I’m stuck in the dear old suburbs of New Jersey, where there is truly nothing to do but some mathematical combination (permutations, combinations, algebra, anyone?) of mall, movies, lunch/dinner – all at the same old places. Darling, isn’t it, becoming acquaintances with your Applebee’s or Chili’s server, or new best friends with the cashier at that store in the mall? Like a tradition, non?

To hell with tradition. Commemorating and keeping the culture alive is one thing, but to mindlessly follow in what was done years before is simply an inability to let go, or create a new page for yourself. Change is inevitable, and tweaks in well-loved traditions are entirely necessary when tradition becomes a blind repetition. Beyond the ritual this and thats, there is emotion and memories attached to it; if the two have evaporated, then, my dear, it is time to move on. Repeat because you love it. Not because it is an obligation.

I suppose I’m just one of those restless souls; the kind that lingers in one place to find itself whilst on the path of self-discovery, and then once complete, feels constricted. Closed in on all four sides, walled within. I want to see new, different things. Experience them. Observe, taste, touch, feel, empathize, remember – then move on to the next. There is so much awaiting us, and to limit ourselves – or to feel limited – is simply the worst feeling in this world.

I digress; it’s Friday night, and here I am, letting my mind and fingers ramble. I do need a night out, just to dance ’til the dawn, with this little Balmain number (sans those shoes…).

{ image source: l e f l a s s h }

Quite the racy little number; edgy, sexy, borderline trashy but redeemed itself with the lace sleeve. I’m undeniably head-over-heels for this dress, rationality tossed aside. It defines, if not epitomizes, irrational obsession and need want.

Which makes it all the more desirable.

I do believe, however, that his impracticality stems from the urge to just dance for an evening. That’s it.

♥

Weekend plans, darlings?

bisous,

La C.

P.S.: I fail to mention the ridiculous amount of snow outside. I refuse to acknowledge its presence, for when I look out, I’m blinded.