Images via The Bureau Belfast
Mmm-hmm, this Indigo Jacquard Haori Jacket from Setto is straight pure uncut hand-churned buttery goodness. I have such a sizeable soft spot for everything kimono and samue inspired that I’ve lost pens in it. Good pens too, like Uni-ball Deluxes and shit. They pair so nicely with those cute little Muji notebooks. I fuck with their stationary so hard. I could wear kimono/samue type garms and wander around Muji all day, every day. “That strange man is back”, one apprehensive employee whispers to her coworker, “Think he’ll buy anything?”. “Just a pen or two. Maybe a notebook”, the coworker responds, “He’ll leave as soon as he realizes he can’t find the bathroom”. I’m a ghost to them. A shell of a man, albeit a somewhat well-dressed shell. And, yes, I’ll leave once I have to take a leak, because I feel ashamed to ask for the restroom’s whereabouts after shopping for forty-five minutes and buying only 12 USD worth of pens and paper. I’ll take my ass to the closest hipster coffee shop for a rejuvenating pee and pourover pitstop (a.k.a. the triple P). They’re brewing a light roast Ethiopian today. Natural process. Plenty of fruity and floral notes. It’s fucking delicious. Wish you were here to taste it with me. Actually I don’t really care. I don’t mind being alone. It suits me just fine. I’ve got my uncomfortable thoughts to keep me company. They don’t judge, except for when they do, which is always. Try to focus on the flavor of the delicious and rapidly cooling coffee, not the fragile nature of your own mortality. No, I don’t mind being alone. Solitude is underrated. I’m about to get my Thoreau on and go kick it next to a pond. I’ll raise my own animals. I’ll churn my own butter. I’ll write my masterpiece with good pens in a series of cute little notebooks. It’ll just be me, my haori jacket, and my uncomfortable thoughts, together, until the end of the world -RB
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