Fuck the Fashion Police

There is a particular stoner girl fantasy of mine that involves strutting to the end of an actual runway in New York or Paris to take a deep toke off a bong, or a puff of a joint. To smoke my medicine proudly, unlike Kate Moss who chose to accessorize her Louis Vuitton look with a cigarette. 

Tobacco kills 435, 000 Americans per year, and cannabis has only saved lives.

Seems impossible considering I have no modeling experience or connections, but a friend reminds me that the chances of that happening are much greater than prohibition ending. When my dream is to see this resource being used the way that it was intended for, I have no choice but to constantly be dreaming of the impossible. 

Early last Thursday I arrive ten minutes before the second hand shop opened and with the extra time I decide to smoke a joint. Being a soldier in the drug war, I plan to march down the runway and use the many facets of prohibition to empower me. While marching with my burning weapon and listening to Siamese Dream, I begin manifesting this runway fantasy.

After shopping I am about to ride the streetcar, but I notice my metro pass isn’t in my wallet. The only option I have is to backtrack immediately, starting at the store. Without any luck and much frustration, I light up another joint. From a short distance, I notice a police officer on a horse creeping in a bush towards a man sitting on a rock. Without hesitation I put out my doob and shuffle quickly behind the cop. Oddly enough, the horse and cop were heading down the exact same street which I practiced my runway walk and where I was searching for my metro pass.

Before I strutted against this stallion,
I took a photo to remember this surreal moment. 

As a fun game of pretend, I listened to the song zero and strutted alongside that cop just like a proud soldier would. Taking this opportunity to bring some positivity to an unusual situation, I looked right at the police officer, said hello, and wished him a great day. He complimented me on the tights I was wearing, and with bright red bloodshot peepers I looked him fiercely in the eyes and said, “Thank you, they’re green, my favourite colour.” He let me know that he would share this styling with his children, because they always wear that colour green and it looks great with black.

Using the Verdamper in my green tights!

Always look to the bright side of the sun, 
Puffy