“life begins at the end of your comfort zone.” // n. d. walsch

there’s a question i ask myself every once and a while that begs a bit of attention – and it’s about this thin correlation between a need/desire/demand for comfort, and the possible assumption of laziness. i think it’s a bit of a which came first conundrum, but here, it’s neither egg nor chicken, but elastic waists and billowy shapes.

i mean, i was never pro body-con or zen with the straightest of miyake knife-pleats, but was it because i couldn’t muster the thought of being uncomfortable or fussing over a garment, or because i was too lazy to possibly change the geometry of a body that was already bound to me?

to be sure, it’s a pickle, but i’m not sure it’s one that plagues me enough to one day figure it all out — at this point, and as it goes, “i am what i am, and that’s all that i am.”





➝ source : colby caftan via weekday

➝ source : harness lace top via vivienne westwood

➝ source : wide legged trousers via tome

➝ source : co leaf embroidered oversized dress via far fetch



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