Don't get your fishnets in a twist....

....This is the life: My train is actually on time and I won't die of hypothermia (there is always a draft on the platform, even at 90 degrees. I'd like to request a scientific investigation for that phenomenon) today for a change. And I have some take-out in my bag which will make for my dinner if it doesn't spill all over my stuff, that is. All I have to manage now is getting through the door without being crushed by other aggressive commuters. Goodness, back off - great, now my bag is stuck between the door and who-knows-whom and they're not gonna stop for me. I fear for my life and shrimps, so I tuck and pull and when I finally get free, I brush over a dog that's trying to enter and he stumbles over the gap but makes it into the wagon safely. Thank God I didn't kill a dog. I turn to find a seat, when the dog owning lady screams at me "Hey you! Cant'cha pay attention?" and I shiver with fear and apologize faintly, to which she just blows some steam from her nostrils and takes off. The humiliation. Who doesn't love to be accused of being cruel to poor little furballs in front of a diverse crowd of traingoers? Not me.

Previously on fashion school floors: We're all mad here, lovelies. I don't want to exclude my snotty self, but some more than others. I'm not dropping names, of course, but you can imagine, the usual stereotypes. The hysteric prof who reacts to desperate we-need-help-messages with "I'm out!" (note the exclamation mark, because subtle clearly isn't our style) and just ghosts you like you've been on two bad dates together. Which is out of the realm of possibilities on so many levels. The student who stresses everyone out in a passive-aggressive manner and then just kinda....leaves when everybody else has a different opinion. Like, poof, deal with it. Oh, I'll be just fine. 

In other news: Everything's better in person, The Accountant wasn't half-bad even though Christmas with the Coopers is still winning this time of the year (It was as awesome as last December (remember this?) when me and my loveliest friend rewatched it this weekend), and I love being brought home in a car (I'm a living, walking 50s movie cliché) and it's my birthday in 9 days - only a photoshoot and a magazine launch away.

Get excited.

Love,

Rosy Smith