Isn’t it funny how the longer you live with yourself, the more comfortable and cognizant you become with what lies beneath your skin? Things that were once fuzzy peripherals that alluded you like the point to virtually every M. Night Shyamalan movie (are they human or are they dead people? Do we even care anymore?) suddenly come into focus and instead of being alarmed, you find that the face staring back at you is surprisingly familiar. Take me for example: I’ve always been more of a homebody than party animal (I’m actually fairly convinced I came out of the womb a 90 year old woman and am actually Benjamin Button-ing my way through life), the improbable love child of Luke Danes and Michel Gerard (it’s probably a bad sign that I was that level of over it at such an early age, right?), and always a Hepburn in a world of Monroes. It used to bother me that I never had the “my milkshake brings all the boys to the yard” appeal of a Marilyn (probably because I still quote the Milkshake song), but as I’ve grown wiser (shut up, I’m wiser), I’ve come to realize that being an Audrey is no small thing. Not a better thing or a worse thing mind you, but definitely not a lesser thing. We can’t all be blonde bombshells after all (No, really. Been there, done that, have the awkward Halloween pics to prove it and no, you can’t see them). I’m perfectly happy being quietly imperfect, following my own compass, and wearing whatever the hell makes ME happy. I mean, with great power comes amazing oversized sunglasses, amiright?
Dress: Target (similar)
Necklace: Nordstrom Rack (similar)
Heels: Kohl’s (similar)
Sunglasses: Charming Charlie
Bag: Kate Spade (similar in white)
Bow: H&M (similar)
[photos by Seth]