I’m still riding high on my Eagles of Death Metal experience. So high in fact that I’ve been wearing the shirt I nabbed nonstop. It deserves to be worn nonstop because I nearly didn’t get it. The imbecile at the merch tent gave me the wrong shirt the first night. I was so excited since he said it was the last small. It was still an EODM shirt but not the one I wanted. Jonathan and I swapped the next night but now I have a medium. Good thing I hate tight clothes or I might be pretty mad. Aw, I guess I’ll be miffed anyway. No use wasting a good reason to be agitated.
Anywho! I’ve been wearing it a lot. I toe the line of a crossdressing tomboy because I’m rarely in “girl clothes.” Being tall and lanky means I have a rough time finding stuff that covers my legs, torso, arms, and shoulders all at the same time…so stepping over into the world of menswear is a pretty common thing for me. At the very least, I seek out unisex t-shirts. Today I was feeling alright with my paleness and injected a dose of femininity with an a-line denim skirt. Then I went and ruined the whole “girly” thing with some giant buckled boots from Topshop. Sorry, mom. Better luck next time.
Finding decent band shirts is an art form that even I haven’t mastered. The curated vintage stores will set you back a very pretty penny. I lucked out on this shirt though. It’ll get softer in time, oversize fit, and a great image. Finding your own favourites will take some time, tears, and lots of live music, but it’s completely worth the effort.
Naturally, I immediately ran out, grabbed a latte, found the nearest graffiti wall, and pretended to be a model. I’m still getting used to this whole “having my picture taken” thing. When you’ve always taken the pictures, it’s a bit awkward to look at a camera from the other angle. I still micromanage every detail though.
Thanks to Chrome Yellow Trading Co for the latte of epic goodness. As far as I know, they’re the only ones in Atlanta that serve up some righteous Portland brews by way of Stumptown. Coffee up front, hipster swag in the back, and a sweet vintage Ducati parked inside. I recommend the mocha latte and black tea vanilla latte, but you really can’t pick a bad cup here.