Despite spending the early formative years of my youth untangling knots from the plastic hair of my Barbie dolls, occasionally extracting from the crystalline-like cacophony of hairs a rogue plastic pump, featuring the classic high Barbie arch, or a tooth from the gratuitous purple Barbie comb, I was never able to master the French braid. At the time, I was satisfied with a disheveled ponytail. Now, I look with envy upon other girls, their hair elegantly woven into the iconic structure, and I wish my muscles had the stamina and the memory to learn some new tricks.
Monday evening lazy soundtrack: Tiger's Milk Belle and Sebastian
(image taken from The Pursuit Aesthetic)