Why Didn't Someone Wake Me Up?

A couple of weeks ago the garbage truck rumbled through the alley behind my house making all sorts of mad noise and beeps. When I woke up I could have sworn was at home, in my parents' house, with the school bus waiting in the driveway. As in 20 years ago. 

I'm homesick. And I can't help thinking it's compounded by the 80's and 90's stuff floating around everywhere. Neon, moto, studs, cropped boots, lace--it's out in full force and I wore a piece of all of it back in the day. Jeggings? Can't remember what we called them, but I had more pairs of ribbed jeans than I knew what to do with. Floral denim? Let's just say I swore NEVER AGAIN to anything bright when it was all over and the fog lifted.

Cut to scene and somehow a pair of neon pink pants has found its way into my closet. Perhaps I can blame it on angst over aging and missing my family? Something's gotta give because I'm actually starting to like neon and it's scaring the hell out of me.  In an effort to test for a cure, this weekend I'm taking a quick zip home to Canada. My sanity is on the line and, quite frankly, I'm not sure how much more Home Depot and the local thrift store can take of my wardrobe.

I told ya: it's crazy time up in here.

Compounded by the back and forth of 'to ferris wheel or not to ferris wheel?'

I FERRIS WHEELED.

But I did not cat, thereby proving I've entered risky waters.

Even my gymnastics skills are coming back.

~Outfit: Gap-Tank, M2F-Vest (similar), Current/Elliott-Jeans, Rebecca Minkoff-Bag (old), Swedish Hasbeens-Shoes (here in soft pink since I'm on a roll), Anthropologie-Sunglasses~