Three months rent or...

I don't care if these are the brainchild of Marc Jacobs at Louis Vuitton. They're fug.

Via macleans.ca

While we're on the subject of fashion, I will take this opportunity to announce the demise of my nose ring. I took it out a couple of nights ago after being fed up with a particularly extended period of the corkscrew part not staying in place. That always means toying with it every five minutes so it didn't protrude from my nostril.

I thought I would miss it a lot, and took a good week to consider whether I really wanted to remove it. I talked to S. about varying wild shades I could dye my hair (or parts thereof) to make up for the lost sassy factor. But I actually haven't missed my little stud at all. In fact, every time I step outside and my nose starts to run, I am thrilled not to have to deal with it.

This doesn't seem nearly as important as I write it. It was just a big deal to me. Another step on the way to being a grown-up, along with attending baby showers and funerals.