What Doesn't Kill You Is Still Annoying.

Oh goodness, what a week and a half. I got the nucleosis my friends, mononucleosis, as I told you. The funny thing about mono is that it's a very tyrannical virus that wants to take over every major organ system of the body, just like Napoleon wanted to take over the world. It's the little things that get the angriest. Aimeenucleosis happened to attack a system of mine that already has difficulty behaving normally in the first place, and life was all blood tests, ultrasounds, dehydration, good pills, bad pills, organic remedies, and just not a lot of fun. Today I can happily say that I return to campus tomorrow for the week before spring break, where I will be working with my professors and the library to get as caught up as possible.

Unfortunately, nucleosis meant that I was not very fashion conscious while I've been away. And if you saw what I looked like right now...well you'd just never visit again. I apologize for leaving you for so long, and I'm going to attempt to juggle all of my academic catch up with blogging, just give me just a wee bit more slack.

As I've been home, my parents, concerned for the well-being of their child turned green skinned skeletor, bought me the newest Elle and Vogue; since I've cut back on magazines since the great frugality of 2010 I just don't buy them myself. Just the past few days I've been interested enough to peruse them, and I'm so incredibly excited about spring fashion this year. My spring wardrobe is basically gone; just about everything is too big and I'm going to have to start from scratch, which I think is going to be fun. But darlings, there is one thing that will not be on my shopping list.


image via style.com

The clog. My god, who decided to bring back the clog!? Since my very beginnings as a youngster interested in style, the clog has plagued me. There were those ugly flat, birkenstock-esq clogs that everyone wore in high school (some still do), that I never wore, never even considered. There were countless conversations with my mother about how clogs belonged in the hospital, not on her feet. (My mother had quite a clog stage, it pains me to recall.) The heavily heeled black lacquer fake leather dress up clogs of the middle school years...I cringe! For me, clogs have been all bad, all the time. And now, a year when I can say I have really started to come into my own as far as my style and my vision for my future style, what do the runways and the fashion gods throw at me? Clogs. CLOGSCLOGSCLOGS. If only you could hear my death keen.

Naturally, everyone loves them. When I say everyone, I say the bloggers that I read every day because they inspire me, the people at Elle and Vogue, and Alexa Chung (apparently). I just can't do it. I can't! I have a visceral response to clogs, one of putrefaction. Tell me I'm not the only one! Oh non commenting masses, comment and tell me that I have an ally in this world falling for the charm of these clogs!