The 1950's Walk of Shame.

Leopard print dress worn as skirt, Romwe.com. Black cropped knitted sweater, H&M. Black lacquer belt, Gina Tricot. Black suede wedges, Steve Madden. Black stockings, Ripped by MLP. Navy bag, inherited from my best friend Fanny (from her mother's lovely boutique Räddningsplankan).

(Photos by me.)

I'm aware of how corny this sounds, but I'm going to write it anyway: The outfits I like the most are always those that tell a story, that tempt my imagination.

Just like in my last outfit, I started out with a pair of ripped stockings and tried to match them with pieces of clothing that would make me look like me, while working well together. The result was an ensemble that I not only felt beautiful in, but that also managed to make my mind come up with a silly little story!

I don't know about you, but I see a good girl who one night decides to let loose. I see pastel colored cars, boys with Elvis inspired haircuts, cheap bottles of whiskey and steamy make-out sessions, parents worried sick and one usually so responsible daughter who knows things won't ever be the same, but who can't help thinking that it's worth it. I see her coming home late the day after, tired and with sore feet but calm and collected, ready to face the consequences of her actions. And I have the feeling she just might be in love.

Here in the real world, one of my cats has just puked up a hairball on the carpet and I'm trying to clean it the best I can while Ronnie is making soup for lunch. Just another Saturday afternoon.