quite irked in a non-important way. i don't know enough words! it's like food somewhat, i need constant vocabulary feed.

this season is californian hippie. nada surf; beulah (there's something addictive about the mix of the occassional chunky beats and the lightness of the tunes, the happy rhythms and bittersweet chords); the thrills croon big sur.i'm thinking big yellow floppy sun hats, beads, lace. topshop has dreamy dresses and bohemian and 1970s looks. those dresses. those knits. penny lane in almost famous beckons. they shouldn't have erased miss selfridge from here. i spied a beautiful, green bag amongst other treasures. from shades of azure and multifarious shades of other blues, my wardrobe has gradually, become more green. green, is more mysterious than blue; it's got more shadow implications than common blue.

fortunately they didn't include mazzy star in The OC soundtrack. it'd have become too common. it's stuff meant to be discovered, hidden and shared secretly among lovers of such night sounds, one musical kindred spirit to another. it isn't meant to be told, it's meant to be whispered.

actually, so do many other things.

i'm glad the world has many corners. nooks. cal-de-sacs.