Cropped knitted top? Check. Dark heather gray wrap skirt? Double check.

I've been on the look out for a suitable option to go with everything high waisted I own - somehow nothing in my wardrobe was up to task, and thus began the two day hunt.(I freaked out yesterday ten minutes before I was heading over to some friends, ended up with jeans and a tee, pure outfit-battlefield-scar)

I've been checking this knitt out before in white and navy, but habit made me try on one or two sizes bigger than my actual size. This is a size XS and I've learned a valueable lesson; not EVERYTHING is designed for you to buy oversize. Huh. Who would've figured. I still love how in reality it's pretty sleek and narrow over the shoulders despite the drop seem, and overall just the perfect amount of cropped nakedness-feel and chunky hideaway piece without the drown in it factor. Such a perfect fit. This picture doesn't do it justice one bit. Damn.

The wrap skirt is also gorgeous, this one was wrongly stitched in the side but I got a good one. Don't you worry children.

 

 

I was trying to hunt down my thigh-high suede boots that has been long lost in the sea of shoes that is the countless number of bags in our basement, but I found THESE instead. They have some Chinese labeling on them and I have no clue where they originally originated from, hence the very mysterious description. Hmmmm... I actually think I have these in cognac too, somewhere.

 

 My hair was accidentally going for this Brigitte Bardot-look this day(before the wind get it's hands on it, pffft), and as a girl with hopelessly flat and pin-straight hair, I kinda felt the responsibility against my peers to embrace it. So I slapped on some winged eyeliner and nude lipstick before hitting the ICA-store in 5 inch heels wearing a sequined cross body bag and a leather mini. Now this is a small town but I've been breaking everyone in inch by inch and sequin by sequin, and I doubt anyone even notices me strolling about only carrying whipped spray soy cream and canned pineapple in own juice anymore. Cool and pretty sad but mostly rad.

 

PS - I'll stop talking soon but let's just have a quiet second for the fact that I'm wearing tights that actually are appropriate outside my ice cream-eating & Sex and the City-watching bedroom empire. And they didn't break. Hell yeah.

This is what I wore for the event of roaming around Öland for the art-night and the autumn harvest festival. It's a huge local thing happening here each September that I actually hadn't ever visited until last night - and now I find it kind of hard to describe the feeling you get stuffing your bag with extra socks and knitted mittens, driving through cornfields around midnight, passing by random funfairs with blinking carrousels, stopping at galleries and local farmers' markets seemingly out in nowhere crammed with happy people. A lot of candles(EVERYWHERE, I'm 99% sure there were people lurking in the bushes with matches ready to re-candle every light that dared go out, there's no other resonable explanation to the hundreds of candles and torches), pumpkins, creativity in all shapes and hot apple cider.

From now on, this will be an annual thing. Period.

Oh - the clothes, the clothes... I am equal parts ashamed and proud that these are my favorite comfy-pants ever. It's weird how manchester flared pants always seems appropriate in my world.