the gal and the ice cream

Stories and fairytales. Today, I've got a little story for you in stock, a fairytale if you will, I call it the gal and the ice cream - it should be read as the princess and the prince but as there's no princess but the gal and no prince, but the ice cream, I call it as said above. Let's make a little flashback, right to the start of the story: once upon a time (as all fairytales start so, right?) in a land far far away, meaning France (just for the day), there's been a gal with a velvet skin as white as snow (sounds familiar, huh?) and her hair twirled to a higher than high bun. She wore a wonderful  silk dress that was flowing-blowing in the wind  tie-dye jumpsuit - by no one else than the ratbag genius, well, let's call her Tomboy, who gets her money from all the fashion victims who have a weakness for, you know, fashion - that had made her nearly broke and shoes her wanna-be-designer-dreams are made of...

but as this is a fairytale gone bad (gone really bad but good, at least, I tell ya), there's a catch. As with all her desirable stuff hanging-dangling at the outside (just have a look at the bracelets), it looked differently from the inside, you know, underneath the cat eyes sunnies, which came out as soon as she took 'em off: something had crawled up her ass. Yep, she's been really pissed and all which you could easily notice by her mimic and gestures - very similar to those (below-ow) ... but the tragedy's been, no one knew what it all was about, I guess, neither did she.

And as they all (who? well, all of them) turned their backs on her, she turned her tie-dyed back on 'em. And as they all thought she was so tough - you so tough - it, again, looked completely different from the inside: she was crying all day long or maybe, she was only rubbing her eyes due to pollen allergy - who knows? maybe both, maybe none of the two. Maybe it should be mentioned here: she still looked good fantastic in her jumpsuit, at least, which made Mrs. Tomboy not-so-rookie-crookie anymore, again, at least. And, again, as the years went by (and she still wore the said jumpsuit - well, no, that's unrealistic) - and, again, as the days went by and she wore her jumpsuit again hours went by...

... someone or she herself  got her an ice cream, not her favorite flavor at all, but still very delicious. And as she started eating, all of a sudden, her inside mood turned around and around and, you know around by 180 degrees, at least and she was happier than ever before (well, maybe just as happy as when she invested in the, you know, investment piece she wore right now then). And finally, the super duper ice cream and the gal (or the other way round) fairytale comes to an end PLUS the moral of the story is...

well, you name it, I guess. And, again (gosh, why are there so many "ands" in the story?), we find ourselves right back from where we started, good bye flashback, hello happy gal that takes her ice cream for a walk for ever and ever - and (again, slobber, slobber) they, meaning her as the ice cream  has been eaten up some day, she lived happily ever after. Whew phew, what a story!

Outfit: shoes Zara, sunnies Mango, jumpsuit Isabel Marant

Have a great day!

xx, A.

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