freedom flowers

OK, so by a show of hands, who saw the above picture posted the other day, taken by none other than the fashion Midas touch himself, The Sartorialist, and swooned a little bit on the inside? 

Go ahead, raise 'em high where I can see them. Her hat, the red lipstick and of course, those goddamn FLOWERS. Utter. Greatness. And this Parisian chick knows it, too. 

That's when I figured, why let the Parisians have all the fun? They already get the to-die-for accent and near perfect bone structure. See where I'm going with this? Of course you do.

Yours truly, moi, jumped in the car last night, raided Wal-Mart's decorative flower section, chopped up some felt and burnt myself too many times with a glue gun while my boyfriend serenaded me on the ukulele and produced this little number:

 

But did I stop there? Nah, of course not. Naturally, I had to one up the above-referenced Parisian chick so I threw on some pearls and a simple gold chain as some, fou fou (emphasis added for French accent). 

Total damage: $12 and some blisters from the glue gun, but worth it.

Moral of the story: Life's too short (to envy those on The Sartorialist) so bring the flowers to you! Oui?