It's probably old hat news to my five faithful followers, but my dreaded intern interviews this week were suddenly illuminated by one fashionable candidate who wore a button that read "Dior, Not War" in a clean, unassuming font. Me wants it. Same intern also wore a chic tight blazer and his hair just so à la late 80s New Wave, with one side shaved, the other long, and a little designer bowtie and skinny jeans. What a fab blogging specimen he was, being picked up by the Huffington Post and writing about Porn Tumblrs. Yours truly felt inspired, uplifted, somehow transcended by creative juice energy of said freelancing 24-year-old would-be-internship candidate. Butterbaby wanted to run to Fred Segal's immediately, with a pit stop at Urban Outfitters, where she would not shop in the Mom section. CORRECTION: There is NO Mom section at Urban Outfitters! Anywway, somehow said intern made me want to completely renew myself from head to toe in the latest "it it it" accoutrements. Later that day, after a cup of coffee and a couple other interviews that were but disappointing, Butterbaby came floating back to earth and Target jeans (no kidding and unmanicured fingernails and general schlumpiness). Sigh.
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