The friend of a friend of a cousin of mine (who is actually my mother’s cousin’s daughter, meaning her relation to me is as small as a pea and, uh, by no means is it actually and shamefully me) was recently dumped. It was a quick and sharp affair. No fuss. There you have it. Finito. But it was as hurtful as the lightning peel of a Russian wax lady. To sum up, the gal in question fell for a sexy, brain as minute as a sunflower seed, King Krule wannabe, who allured his prays with a witty sense of humor. He was like a Starbucks Mocca Cappuccino latte…. A sweet cascading delight made out of shitty, cheap quality chemicals. The following relation may strike as weird… but then again, the way my brain works is damn weird too. The forty five seconds relationship reminded me of the ignorance I behold towards many garments. The crazy amount of mysteriously appealing, wrongly-in-the-good-way shaped, fabulously divine shoes, shirts, pants and all of the above, hidden away like a bad date in my closet, is undeniably insane. They had their particular way of being (maybe the studded jacket had some social issues…), an attitude, a personality, a way of inadvertidly speaking out their opinions. They were discreetly sexy and had these little fidgety customs (like psychotically biting their nails) that made them quite unique. They kicked ass, basically. Nevertheless, I cut the relationship short, closed the doors to my heart (and… uh… legs) and turned the other way. Once again, Russian wax lady attitude striking like thunder. To su up the blah di blah di blah, let me state the following: That special something you turned your back to and left to succumb to the “talk to my effing hand” sentence might be as perfect as a Hedi Slimane leather perfecto. The thing is, she won’t be hanging in your closet but, in fact, will tell you to eff the effing eff off. I decided to post a series of exes. With a bit of patience and brains, any relationship works. Maybe there’s a dress a lil’ bit hard to handle or a pattern that kind of makes you go mad (in both ways), but lemme tell you; The are worth the trouble.