Few things get my adrenaline pumping quite like highlighter hues. Call me crazy, but when I enter a store, I'm like a heat-seeking missile.
and when I say heat-seeking, I mean supersaturatedcolor-seeking.
and when I say heat-seeking, I mean supersaturatedcolor-seeking.
Neon is not for the faint of heart – I’ll never forget the day I wore a pair of neon pink socks to St. Peter’s Basilica in the Vatican City – my various “offensive” appendages were modestly covered (with a fab outfit, duh), but my blindingly beautiful tootsies seemed to both befuddle and bemuse the Italian guards.
I’m not sure where my adoration originates – I’ve always been a fan of color (the color-blocking trend makes me swoon), but neon is on a whole other level. It is as if a particularly creative angel sent down a bolt of lightning from heaven to electrify the rainbow – I think I speak for fashionistas everywhere when I say THANK YOU – that jolt changed my life. or at least my wardrobe.
People say lightening never strikes twice, but lucky for me, it struck 30 times this past resort season in Christopher Kane’s glorious collection.
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