There’s a high chance that you are going to shop this weekend, maybe. Blue blood elite cosplay, I know that’s right. But I know this! When I put on sunglasses, I want you to think my Black gay ass is Nancy Reagan. I have no idea how any of this this works. I describe this aesthetic as “rich white republican grandma on her fifth martini, sitting in the backyard her family’s estate in Connecticut and watching her grandson Chip play polo.” Do I know what all those words mean? I sure do not! I don’t even know if one plays polo on the grass to begin with. My philosophy on sunglasses is simple: They must be big.
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