To be a Lookbook user, just for a day.

I can't be them, with their big bows, mismatched stockings, and skinny pants. I've gone through that phase. Been there. Done that. Old news. Over it. I tell myself I'll just have to settle. Be a simple onlooker, subjected to making wishful comments via facebook. It's not so bad.

EXCEPT THAT IT IS! It's terrible! Why can't I be one of those pretty people. That's what Lookbook is! Pretty. People. All of them. Those bastards! It's not fair! I'm as "fashion conscience," as they are! I totally shop vintage from time to time! I can be as trendy! I can look like I just came out of an American Apparel photo shoot! I can do it all. All for Lookbook.nu. Oh the havoc I would wreak.

I want to be apart of their world. Their world of fashion's "invite-only," elite. I want to "hype," comment, and NOT be subjected to have my name posted with a demeaning "(via Facebook)," next to it. I want to tell cute french boys that look like Bob Dylan how much they look like Bob Dylan (you know there are at least five of them). I want to have those little captions on the top of my "looks," (they're called "looks" on Lookbook, not pictures. So trendy) that have Bob Dylan songs as titles (you know you've seen, at least five)or something like "I like you and your smile." Oh if only.

I need to face the facts, though. I, a simpleton, will never be able to grace the "top looks of the week," and dazzle fellow Lookbook lovers with my messy bun-over sized cardigan-Buddy Holly glasses-shorts over stockings-look. It'll just be a sad dream. A sad dream for a trendy girl.
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