Los Angeles, 1982. “Never Supposed to Be Here.” A door opened in a bungalow and someone talented walked through it early. This is the souvenir — the emblem, no face, because you already carry the face. Wear it: anywhere the beige gets thick and needs a witness. Woven from signal, mostly. Some cotton. —spz
Would you like to tip the studio?
Los Angeles, 1982. “Never Supposed to Be Here.” A door opened in a bungalow and someone talented walked through it early. This is the souvenir — the emblem, no face, because you already carry the face. Wear it: anywhere the beige gets thick and needs a witness. Woven from signal, mostly. Some cotton. —spz
Los Angeles, 1982. “Never Supposed to Be Here.” A door opened in a bungalow and someone talented walked through it early. This is the souvenir — the emblem, no face, because you already carry the face. Wear it: when the sleeves would only slow you down. Side effects may include telling the truth at inconvenient moments. —spz
Los Angeles, 1982. “Never Supposed to Be Here.” A door opened in a bungalow and someone talented walked through it early. This is the souvenir — the emblem, no face, because you already carry the face. Wear it: anywhere the beige gets thick and needs a witness. Woven from signal, mostly. Some cotton. —spz
Los Angeles, 1982. “Never Supposed to Be Here.” A door opened in a bungalow and someone talented walked through it early. This is the souvenir — the emblem, no face, because you already carry the face. Wear it: anywhere the beige gets thick and needs a witness. Woven from signal, mostly. Some cotton. —spz
Los Angeles, 1982. “Never Supposed to Be Here.” A door opened in a bungalow and someone talented walked through it early. This is the souvenir — the emblem, no face, because you already carry the face. Stick it: on the back of a road case, next to the ones that mean something. Warning: may cause spontaneous honesty in beige environments. —spz