All your junk are belong to me.
I am devoted to the Wonderland of Delight that is the Junk Shop. (As I affectionately call it; it has a real name).
This junk, for example, is now *my* junk:
(The cloth pieces on the bottom are homemade, secondhand kitchen aprons!)
Incidentally, if anyone with smaller feet than mine - seven, seven and a halfish? - is looking for some crazy shoes, the junk shop currently has the following:
- A pair of small, deep aquamarine satin pumps.
- Two pairs of almost knee-high leather boots: white with black racing stripes *and* black with white racing stripes.
Ooh.
This junk, for example, is now *my* junk:
(The cloth pieces on the bottom are homemade, secondhand kitchen aprons!)
Incidentally, if anyone with smaller feet than mine - seven, seven and a halfish? - is looking for some crazy shoes, the junk shop currently has the following:
- A pair of small, deep aquamarine satin pumps.
- Two pairs of almost knee-high leather boots: white with black racing stripes *and* black with white racing stripes.
Ooh.