When I come to the hair salon with my little brother, I always feel like the sister in Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. The ladies here LOVE him in a way that is inexplicable (and, okay, kind of hilarious).
I go by my initials.
I like ampersands and semicolons and libraries and notebooks and trains and bathtubs and photographs and Post-it notes and chin-ups and piggy backs and Saltines and skim milk and harmonicas and corduroys and steak and soup spoons and rain boots and headbands and sunglasses and tutus and, especially, knee socks.
Nov25
