“The story starts with a girl. Who is she? What is she doing? What kind of car does she drive? In my mind, I create a world based around the girl. When I design a collection, I have that heroine in mind. She is the star of my movie and expresses what I have to say. I study her character, and I create for her and through her.”—Ralph Lauren (via caryrandolph)
i'm in love with your blog! and i hate to be annoying but i have to agree with the annon below that asked you to change your theme so its not a never ending scroll. although, they did ask it in a kind of rude way. i like your theme but when i go to reblog a picture thats pretty far down your page and then i go back to look at more pictures, it brings me to the top all over again.
thanks! and i feel you, thanks for asking nicely :) i think i’m going to get a new theme anyway, so not to worry!
“The full moon, well risen in a cloudless eastern sky, covered the high solitude with its light. We are not conscious of daylight as that which displaces darkness. Daylight, even when the sun is clear of clouds, seems to us simply the natural condition of the earth and air. When we think of the downs, we think of the downs in daylight, as with think of a rabbit with its fur on. Stubbs may have envisaged the skeleton inside the horse, but most of us do not: and we do not usually envisage the downs without daylight, even though the light is not a part of the down itself as the hide is part of the horse itself. We take daylight for granted. But moonlight is another matter. It is inconstant. The full moon wanes and returns again. Clouds may obscure it to an extent to which they cannot obscure daylight. Water is necessary to us, but a waterfall is not. Where it is to be found it is something extra, a beautiful ornament. We need daylight and to that extent it us utilitarian, but moonlight we do not need. When it comes, it serves no necessity. It transforms. It falls upon the banks and the grass, separating one long blade from another; turning a drift of brown, frosted leaves from a single heap to innumerable flashing fragments; or glimmering lengthways along wet twigs as though light itself were ductile.”—Richard Adams (via arreter)