once you start liking that Japanese shit, there’s no going back. you’re gonna be eyeing everything in visvim’s catalog and wondering who you can rob to get the $700 for some FBT boots
Today, I got to wear a 60-year-old Japanese robe.
It was riddled with holes, no doubt from moth bites and daily wear, but thankfully, the person I bought it from shipped it to me with good fabric and thread to patch it up. It’s a little long on me compared to how I’ve seen it sit on other people, but I like it anyway. It needs a lot of work— one of the sleeves is torn right down the middle and I can’t tell if fabric is missing or if it just needs to be sewn together again— but it is something I look forward to doing in my spare time.
Let’s see what happens.
I think I’ve inherited my mother’s love of big, floppy hats.
I got accepted into my college’s dual-degree BS/MS occupational therapy program!
Last night, I dreamt I wore a 3-piece seersucker suit.
I woke up feeling more aware of just how Maruchan my ramen noodle budget really is.