Outfit of the Week: Starla Student

Dress: Red Light Vintage

Photos: Lady Leila

Starla Student wishes there was a perfume that smelled like a worn book (she often rubs old pages on her wrist, trying to soak up the heavenly scent of the words of Baudelaire and May Alcott through osmosis). She is quiet, hiding behind her stoic, majestic ivy-covered walls. Her favorite sound is the peck DING schweep THWACK of her typewriter. The buzz of coffee whirs the back of her eyes, but she drinks it black and strong anyway. The poetry of Patti Smith and Robert Frost slide down her throat like liquid gold. She thumbs through Sol LeWitt's autobiography until she dreams of inanimate objects and ghosts of family members. She gets lost in papers, book reviews, lecture notes, and stress sometimes builds in a knot at the base of her neck. She'll go about her routine, her scurry from class to class, and hearing her worn leather boots click on the red brick sidewalks, and holding close her books like a protective shield and a marker of her identity.