I have worn glasses since I was ten, and when I say I have the eyes of a geriatric, I’m not kidding.
Luckily I know my way around my flat, because without my contacts or my spectacles, everything beyond a meter away is a Monet-esque blur. I adore beautiful spectacles, but have worn my contacts every day since I can remember, because the truth of the matter is that my specs are dorky. Not quirky-dorky, dorky-dorky. I wear them first thing in the morning and last thing at night, and the few people that are privileged to have seen them are the same elite guild that have seen my red polar fleece Santa robe (I swear it’s the only piece of polar fleece that I possess! I find the extreme functionality of polar fleece disturbing).
I have been meaning to buy new frames for years, and finally I think I am getting close… I spent an hour ogling the saliva-inducing selection at Extreme Eyewear this week and I have my heart set on a pair of these cat’s eye Anne et Valentins:
A pair of their sunglasses would not be remiss, either. These tortoise shell babies have my name all over them.