The New and Improved Sex & the City Girls

 

So I came across this vintage dime picturing an all-female college rifle team from the twenties.  I absolutely love the fact that a rifle group is dressed in fur and pantyhose. I can just imagine these dolls shooting wild boar in their mary janes and reloading bullets as they adjust their tights. Gosh, these girls are more fabulous than Carrie, Samantha, Charlotte and Miranda. When is the last time you saw the Sex & the City girls shooting a wild animal? Actually, when is the last time you saw them engage in any form of physical activity? (Besides sex and shopping, of course).

 

I'm telling you, these girls have style. Look at the contrast between their intense facial expressions, revealing their true vivacious spirits, and the femininity of their attire, reflecting their adherence to social expectations. (Sorry, Art History major up in here).

 

These girls are badasses.

 

I'm going to start an all-female rifle team at Hopkins. Except, no ugly hiking boots allowed. And everyone has to dress in fur. And mary janes. And wear crimson red lipstick. And flapper bobs will not be obligatory, but highly encouraged.

 

Okay, so this sounds more like a 1920s revival club than a rifle club, but hey, what's wrong with being a badass and looking like a badass at the same time?

 

girlinpearls

The Most Contemptible Abandonment

He left me this morning with a kiss I can still taste...Colgate Total to be exact.  I woke up early this morning to the sound of his alarm (a sound I have been dreading all week because there is no worse feeling than being left sans kisses, sans early morning cuddling, and worst of all: sans a South Park buddy). He cuddled up in my bed for a few minutes before he left and whispered...

"Fuck Christmas."

Yes, Christmas break is the evil culprit separating Nebu and I. (His actual name is not Nebu...that would be concerning. I call him Nebu because I sometimes neurotically dream about historical figures; in this case, I had dreamt about Nebuchadnezzar II, a neo-Babylonian king, and in my delerious [and adorable] morning state one day, I managed to call my boyfriend Nebuchadnezzar. [Yes, I'm a nerd. I study in my sleep.] So, for purposes of anonymity, I will refer to him as Nebu.)

So we kissed for a bit, talked a bit of smack about Christmas and how terrible our families were for wanting us to come home, and that was that. He left me all lonely and kiss-deprived--as I will be for the next week.

This contemptible abandonment occurred approximately fifteen hours ago, as I now look at Marchesa gowns and long for his next text message. (Boy, 'longing' for a 'text message' is so unromantic. Screw the twenty-first century....)

So, readers, I will be fantasizing over designer gowns, kisses, and the Victorian era until I fall asleep.

Good night,

girlinpearls