I have come to the conclusion that I should have been born a wealthy heiress in the 1920s. I love Billie Holiday and Ella Fitzgerald, I DIE for fringe and sequins and 20s-esque fashion and I could probably quote you the entire book "The Great Gatsby". I dream about being a free spirit in the 20s, dancing the night away at a giant party that ends with fireworks and everyone falling asleep on the grassy lawn of a spacious estate. I imagine wearing a feather in my hair, stockings and short dresses that are heavy with dripping with adornments.
But instead, I was born in 1987. Time of the acid wash jeans, scrunchies, crimped hair, neon colors, L.A. Gear light up shoes, and some of the scariest shoulder pad situations I have ever seen.