Rodarte just kills me every time. Like everyone else these days, I'm in love with their deconstructed knits... to me they ooze a weird feminized version of the (safe) kind of rebellion that drives teens to write punk songs in their parents' basement.
And I'm not sure what it says about me that I would love to wear thigh-high boots everyday. In my fantasy world, of course, where no one would look at me like I was a whore.
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