Okay, not completely, but it's an intense love.
Even when I'm at the point I'm stealing Zane's hangers, or I'm struggling to squeeze another shirt in my closet, or how my closet somehow still looks full when half my clothes are laying on the floor, why do I feel like I need more?
I guess a better word choice would be REALLY want more.
Zane thinks it's hilarious.
Especially when we just finished having a nice, tender talk about our relationship, and we fall silent, and then he turns to me and asks, "What are you thinking about?"
And I reply, "What I'm going to wear tomorrow."
I recently accepted it might be an addiction when I was laying on my bed, writhing in pain from a migraine that was quickly turning into nausea, and realize the only thing that makes the pain bearable is if I imagine putting together different outfits, using some articles of clothing I don't even own (yet).
You'd think I'd manage to look a bit more stylish with all the thought I put into clothes, but it's really only the shopping I've mastered. Getting creative with what I've got is a work in progress.
I realize after writing all this down, that I sound incredibly materialistic, and maybe a bit vapid. Judge if you must, but hey, I know I'm not the only girl out there with this problem.
So someone tell me why, and how in the world, some cuts of cloth can bring me so much pure joy?
Here's what's haunting my dreams, and filling up my Nordstrom bag, as of late.
oh if I had a million dollars...