It’s ironic how denim *anything* is the ultimate, effortless staple, like a crisp white button-down shirt or a soft, white cotton t-shirt and here I am, constantly struggling to find ways to integrate denim in my looks.I’ll be honest when I say that it’s my least favourite fabric. That doesn’t mean I’m completely discounting denim from my closet either. I do wear jeans from time to time, like, whenever I’m having ‘lazy’ days or the very rare occasion when I feel like doing so but really, denim is my last option. And I love it.
Rumi and I made a pit stop somewhere in between West Wendover and Winnemucca, Nevada to admire the insane view of dirty nothingness. And what better way to celebrate such moment than paying a nod to what was, historically-speaking, the fabric of choice of the working class. Gold rush, anyone?
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