Fashion Victim
By birksy
Her bag comes from Paris, it seems proud of the fact, and her phone is a companion, she can’t put him down. She eats apples for breakfast, I suspect she flosses her teeth, here comes perfect girl, the perfect victim for fashion. Her hair rests just so, her boots shiny clean, flares just flared enough, poise simply supreme, she reads the ‘in’ books, she can speak well at parties and farts sweet perfume, the distressed maiden of haute couture. I guess some either have it, and some either not, what a strange little life it must be. Written January 8th, 2002 © on Jan 08 2002 02:07 AM PST, Simon Birks 0 • 9
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"Her bag comes from Paris,..."