fall in new york is never autumn, meaning that the leaves don't slowly turn yellow and amber and meander down to the ground. the fall off green and if they don't fall of quick, which most do, they stubbornly hold on. the sunshines bright, the air turns crisp and i try to convince myself that 50 and 60 degrees is warm, warm, warm, i am warm in a sweater. i tell myself it's warm even when it's not.
my new baby blue '40s leather jacket from ebay, cat print miu miu shoes
with this weather and new jacket, i've been re-reading all of dashiell hammet's novels that i own- the continental op, red harvest, the maltese falcon and the thin man (which is also one of my favorite movies).
stills from spirit of the beehive, the scenery is just a large blanket of rolling plains that i could get lost in.