I only have a single photograph of me and you. It's from last New Years at my place. I look half drunk and half obscured by some crusty punk. You're all done up and already walking away.
Androgyny. Bukowski. Pessimism. Apple juice. Sluts. Smoking. Adjectives. People with good lips. Eatings cheating. Terry Richardson. Bangs. Killer heels. Coincidences. Freja Beha. Cheeky bones.
If in doubt, wink, peace and pout.
Alex James.
What in the hell is a girl with hips like yours doing selling death?
Regina George.