The Magenta Affliction

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Pink jumper, vintage/Trousers, Topshop/Heels, vintage/Necklace, Topshop.

I’ve been a nightmare lately. A menace rather. I’ve been touting this pink jumper on my back wherever I’ve gone the last three days, and only the concept of personal hygiene has allowed me to reluctantly pry my grubby hands off of it. I want to wear it everywhere. To work, outside, at home, in bed… You know, for those days where taking off your cosy little knit to change into pyjamas seems inconceivable. (I have a cardigan as well that doubles as a dressing gown. Am I taking this too far?)

It’s getting bad enough to the point my boyfriend sighs when he sees me in it. And my brother raises that eyebrow and says, “Oh, that one again, huh?” I’m telling you. It’s a disease.

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