Started with two vodka sodas and the bold belief that I could sew. Tried to hot-glue broken Christmas lights onto an old prom dress. Shocked I still have eyebrows.
Alright, Star Fam. Gather ‘round.
Lost one shoe. Found it in the punch bowl. My outfit is now 60% sequins, 40% shame. Photo evidence attached (please ignore the ketchup stain – that’s “editorial”). MyDrunkenStar - Vicky - Drunk Fashion Show
xoxo, Vicky Professional Disaster. Amateur Runway Queen. 📸 Vicky mid-fall, arms out like a majestic swan in distress. 📸 Close-up of the “ketchup stain” (jury’s still out on if that’s blood or hot sauce). 📸 A blurry selfie with the traffic cone captioned “my emotional support pylon.”
Location: The Back Room @ The Rusty Compass Mood tracker: 4 shots of Fireball / Wobbly / Iconic Started with two vodka sodas and the bold
10/10 would black out and catwalk again. Shoutout to the stranger who held my hair back and told me I looked “fierce.” You’re a real one.
Now someone please tell me why I have a traffic cone in my bag. Alright, Star Fam
If you’re gonna wear stilettos while three sheets to the wind, just commit. Fall like you meant it. Own the chaos.