I kept having chills. This was in the middle of the summer and I was wearing a sheepskin jacket and I was chilling. I was shaking all over.
You have to interpret what's hot to make it work on yourself. If tweed suits are in, but you're not a suit kind of girl, wear the jacket with jeans and a pair of Converses.
There'll always be a McQueen woman. She's strong, powerful & when she puts a McQueen jacket on, she feels different.
I hate the only one of my book jackets when I was made up professionally, my hair made into a smooth bell.
I like edgy but classic looks - like Chanel mixed with Alexander McQueen. My personal style is edgier. My closet is just black, gray, and white. I'm more comfortable in darker colors and leather jackets.
I still love the skinny jeans thing and I wear my favorite leather jacket constantly. I like being kind of a rock star. I love that I can feel comfortable in a small dress or I can feel comfortable wearing a baggy T-shirt.
Spring. March fans it, April christens it, and May puts on its jacket and trousers.
No hot guys should be allowed to have an English accent and drive a motorcycle. Not to mention wear the leather jacket or sport the cool shades. Hot guys should be forced into footie pajamas.
Black is not sad. Bright colours are what depress me. They're so... empty. Black is poetic. How do you imagine a poet? In a bright yellow jacket? Probably not.
Well, this is a story about books." About books?" About accursed books, about a man who wrote them, about a character who broke out of the pages of anovel so that he could burn it, about a betrayal and a lost friendship. It's a story of love, of hatred, and of the dreams that live in the shadow of the wind." You talk like the jacket blurb of a Victorian novel, Daniel." That's probably because I work in a bookshop and I've seen too many. But this is a true story.
I'm not big on flak jackets and tie-dyed shirts. You know, that's not me.
I can't pass a bookstore without slipping inside, looking for the next book that will burn my hand when I touch its jacket, or hand me over a promissory note of such immense power that it contains the formula that will change everything about me.
I'm like the weather, never really can predict when this rain cloud's gonna burst; when it's the high or it's the low, when you might need a light jacket. Sometimes I'm the slush that sticks to the bottom of your work pants, but I can easily be the melting snowflakes clinging to your long lashes. I know that some people like: sunny and seventy-five, sunny and seventy-five, sunny and seventy-five, but you take me as I am and never forget to pack an umbrella.
With a stretch belt, anything can be a dress - a dinner napkin, a tablecloth, even a towel. Just wrap and snap, and away you go in an incredible outfit. Another plus is that the belt will pull all eyes to your lovely curves, and they even look good around a coat or a jacket.
In the middle of all this, as Sean slips out of his jacket, he looks over his shoulder at me and he smiles at me, just a glancing, faint thing before he turns back to Tommy. I'm quite happy for that smile, because Dad told me once you should be grateful for the gifts that are the rarest.
God, it was good. Comforting and stimulating at the same time. Absolute world-class pheromones. I wished I could take his jacket home with me. Not him, just the jacket.
I’ve lost someone, too. And there were no rules for how to deal with the death of someone you loved. You had to accept that the loss would always stay with you, like a reminder note pinned to the inside of your jacket. But there were still opportunities for happiness. Even joy.
I watch her as she leaves. Everything about her is fluid as a river. Her messy hair, her xylophone voice, the strokes of her paintbrush. Even her camouflage army jacket hangs loose, flowing like ribbons.
His sympathy made tears spring to Lina's eyes. Doon looked startled for a moment, and then he took a step toward her and wrapped his arms around her. He gave her a squeeze so quick and tight that it made her cough, and then it made her laugh. She realized all at once that Doon--thin, dark-eyed Doon with his troublesome temper and his terrible brown jacket and his good heart--was the person that she knew better than anyone now. He was her best friend.
Well, it's a tie and jacket and I just don't travel with one, ... You're not going to put a coat and tie on me for dinner. I'm just being honest. Plus, the wives can't go and I'd rather see the wives be able to go instead of just all the guys. That makes it fun.
I never lived the life of 'Oh, you're so good-looking'. People thought I was a girl when I was little, because I looked like a girl-maybe because my mother would keep my hair really long in a bowl cut. I was in a coffee shop once and the waitress was like, 'What do you want, Miss?' I was 10 or 11-the worst age to have that happen. I had a jean jacket on and a Metallica pin. I thought I was really cool.
And Zach was taking his jacket off and draping it around my shoulders, which (according to Liz, who double checked with Macey) is the single-sexiest thing a guy can do.
To match the shoes with the jacket is fey. To match the shoes with the hat is taste.
The way I lived, I grew up in a time where people would take your shoes, they'll take your jacket, they'll take your cheese without a gun. So people would jump on you - this was like fourteen, fifteen years old. So it always taught me that you gotta have your crew, in some ways you gotta move, don't put your self in harm's way, and definitely if you're a street dude and want any kind off credibility, don't put yourself under the mercy of anybody else, or you'll be at their mercy; they can do what they want to do to you.
My essentials are skinny jeans, loose-fitting tees, big jumpers, and the leather jacket. Everything is black or blue - I don't own anything colorful.
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