tall tee

Sagging Tip #67: Tee Length

If you like to wear long or oversized tees, make sure they don’t cover your pants too much. The tail of your pants with the back pockets and the front with the zipper should always be visible. It makes no sense to sag low and then let your pants be completely covered by a long shirt. Instead, pull your pants down enough to make sure their tail is on display.

See also: Pocket Line

The Signs as Michael Faudet Poems


My Girl Who Writes

I watch you write,
my love, my life,
my start of everything.

Each little sigh,
a pen run day,
another painful page

Your fingers bleed,
I do concede,
for a sentence
of your making.

To which you say,
on sunshine days,
it is for words
my heart is breaking.



Do you know what really turns me on?
What I find incredibly sexy? Kindness.


Pressed Flowers

To the quiet one,
the coy,
the wallflower.

Her dark circled eyes
buried in a book.

Hard little nipples,
dusty pink,
beneath a tatty
black singlet.

Those restless legs,
sprawled across
a squeaky bed.

Her secrets kept,
like pressed daisies
hidden by
pages read.



She wore the scent
of early spring
on her delicate neck
and every kiss I stole
tasted of bright yellow flowers
and buzzing bees.



She rode on airplanes and fell asleep in hotel beds. Dreaming of faraway places– writing poetry with her sunset eyes.



There is a certain stillness, when even the gentle flutter of a butterfly’s wing feels like a hurricane.

The moment when crashing waves fall asleep, peaceful, lost to the serenity of salty dreams.

When tall tees stand to attention and every leaf pauses, takes a deep breath and holds it.

It is here, beneath the maddening silence I hear your name.

An echo of you.


The Gift

Her eyes were beautifully gift wrapped;
long black lashes of velvet ribbon–
and every time she opened them,
it felt like Christmas.


The Mermaid

She came from the ocean,
this wild girl from the sea,
her hair flowing southwards,
she walked towards me.

A west to east smile,
with eyes steely grey,
like a storm in the distance,
rolling in from the bay.

We kissed with the sunrise,
made love when it set,
a promise by moonlight,
came dawn, my regret.

He left for the ocean,
this boy from the land,
his spirit soars northward,
his heart in her hands.


Pen Portrait

I watched as you reached for the ice cream.

Standing naked, body pressed up against the humming fridge.

A wispy trail of bluish grey smoke spiraling up from a dying cigarette.

Held precariously in the other hand, ash falling to the floor.

A just fucked wetness between your legs.

Your little smile captured in grainy black and white.

By the click of a camera.


Some Days

Some days we spoke about life, other days, we discussed the weather– and whenever we laughed, it was the best sex ever.



Magic tumbled from her pretty lips and when she poke the language of the universe– the stars sighed in unison.


The Apple Orchard

He floated upon a gentle sea of rippling green.

When little yellow butterflies danced drunk pirouettes on the windy stage.

Reading the words written by fluffy white poets who wrote ever changing prose across and endless blue page.

‘Apples are funny things,’ he said. ‘You can never be sure of what you are getting until you take that first bite.’

His hand reaches slowly for the half empty vodka bottle.

‘This afternoon I discovered an apple so wonderfully perfect, I wouldn’t be surprised if it came from the outstretched hand of a wicked old witch.’

She pulled up her white cotton panties, brushing an ant from a grass stained knee.

‘I’ve been called many things before but never an apple,’ she laughed.

None of these poems are mine. I borrowed them all from Michael’s book Dirty Pretty Things. Go check it out!



I’ve thought about making a blog about Jerry Seinfeld’s girlfriends on Seinfeld. I know there have been previous attempts at assorted rankings and lists but my blog would give Jerry’s parade of semi-anonymous bit part-ers (yeah, yeah, Courtney Cox, whatever) their long overdue & scientifically rigorous analysis.  These women are good looking normal ladies with ribbed turtlenecks and loafers (permitting the occasional kitten heel) and to me, these women are the epitome of ‘norm-core’, a trend that has undoubtedly ended by the time I’ve noticed it and taken the time to write about it. 

“Norm-core”, depending on whom you ask, is the conscious decision to look as normal as possible in order to stand out by, in essence, NOT standing out. It might be that wearing white reeboks and a vertical striped button down (fully-buttoned) is just your style and you’ve never really cared about clothes as much as you just care about music and your girlfriend and Xanax. Which is normal. It’s completely normal to not give a shit how you present yourself and sacrifice all self-respect that day for one huge luxury; comfort. Comfort is at the heart of our desires, emotionally and physically. No outfit is more comfortable than sweatpants, a tee shirt, and tennis shoes. So why the hell would anyone try anything else? Norm-core apathetically shrugs its sunken shoulders. It is the young rebellious millennial moving from sewer clown raver looks to legit boring looks. Yet for all the celebrated drabness being embraced by today’s brave artistic pioneers, these looks are still better at it than the dead-eyed herds of real normal people. I am pummeled every day by this reality as I have to work in an honest-to-God shopping mall. I have to interact with Mid-western normal people everyday. I have to sell them boot cut jeans on occasion. It’s awful. Real normal is wearing hiking boots every day. It’s having Smashmouth songs on your phone. Genuinely normal people tend not to understand the ebb and flow of any subculture so they wouldn’t recognize the actual white bread and ketchup and CBS sitcoms kid from the kid next to him trying to create the boring effect in Acne and Phillip Lim. 

Within this shift in the casual mentality people are getting minimalism confused with normal. The 1990s saw a sort of renaissance of minimalism, perhaps especially in Calvin Klein. Klein’s white-tee-and-light-denim formula for the masses was primordial perfection and a refreshing departure from the detailed overkill so commonly translated from runways. Most importantly, it was attainable. The look was chic and easy to recreate in any price range. Its beauty was in its boiled-down simplicity. Sure, simplicity is easy, but to elevate it beyond the look of a middle America WASP-y dullard, a small dash of actual honest-to-god art is requisite: styling. Your dad and Scott Schuman could wear the same outfit down to the athletic socks and Scott is going to kill it and your dad is going to still look like your dad. Norm-core seems to lazily pull style out of simplicity and replace it with hack-ness. It is Carrot Top in Larry David’s clothes. It is a wave of white and pale denim that a big part of me wants to get behind but can’t because I’m just not going to wear those Adidas sandals again like in middle school. Within ‘norm-core’ there are those who are doing it ‘well’ and remain styled in $300 sweatshirts and then there are those wearing a white tall tee and Chaco sandals, so who is actually doing it better? If the whole point is to look like you aren’t trying then it has to go to the latter. 

Perhaps I am looking too deep into the nuance though. Where does a trend split into something organic within its new host body? I’m thinking about the green-haired feminist Tumblr queens wearing nike tank tops and dumpy Gloria Vanderbilt denim. Is this interpretation also normcore or is it simply the new wave of indifference in rebellion via American suburbia? One is inclined to say both. Living in the Midwest is very difficult for style literate people. We see trends, even within our sub-cultures, way after they’ve hit either coast. I am constantly surprised when I see someone who knows how to wear clothing in a flattering and interesting way and I don’t already know who they are and what mall they work at. Who are you? Did you just move here? Why are you here? Save yourself! For example I saw a man the other day wearing a Kenzo t-shirt into the DMV. In Warren Michigan. Where Eminem is from. It was the most surreal thing. And it wasn’t even ill-fitting. What I’m getting at here is that when the few people who get it (it being a general knowledge of fit, proportion, and style), it is disheartening to see them revert back to the cluelessness of normcore as if this was ninth grade and everything sucks so it doesn’t matter what you’re wearing. I have a hard enough time telling moms that they can literally wear any stupid top they want with a pair of jeans and it will be fine because denim is essentially a neutral, I can’t take being the only person within 100 miles that has looked outside of Married with Children for style advice.

If I sound bitter, its because I am. I work hard to make sure I stand out. If you think you don’t you’re lying to yourself. Personal style is at the center of narcissism, it just depends on if you are aware of it. My style is all I have. It’s the small part of my own circumstance I can control until I can afford to leave and never breathe the recycled stale air of a mall again. Sure I’ll go back every once in a while to eat Auntie Anne’s when I’m in the mood for diarrhea but to not work amongst the human informercials will be divine. I think when we embrace normcore we do a disservice to our obvious superiority. We waste our daily talent of getting dressed on the notion that normal people are worth replicating. Guess what, there are way, way, way, too many of them to begin with. You want to be normcore? I dare you to wear Northface fleece, Lululemon see-through leggings and Uggs every single day. Guys, you can wear washed out denim that’s over five years old and over five sizes to big with a polo and some flip-flops to show off your Samwise Gamgee feet. THAT is what is ‘normal’.

We are the enlightened ones friends. We see past the fast fashion but embrace it when necessary. We know it is 2014 and there is no fucking excuse to be wearing basketball shorts outside of your crappy apartment. We know shoes matter and yoga clothes are not an everyday thing. We know what better crap to spend our money on. I vote we move past normcore quickly. If your style is classic, do classic, but do it with a sense of integrity. You aren’t your dad yet, you still have time.


Request : How about a Lucifer X reader one-shot about the song "Somebody to love" by Queen? I know that's not specific, hope it's okay?

Word Count: 2302 (Sorry it’s a bit short:/)
Pairings: LuciferXreader
Warnings : None
A/n: So this has been sat in my completed pile for ages. I was supposed to upload it ages ago, and I’m sorry I forgot about it. But it’s here now, and I hope you like it :)
Can anybody find me somebody to love?

That was the only thought that ran though your brain as you sat at the bar, looking at the dark haired guy that your friends had set you up with.

You shared no common interests with him, and for the past half hour, you’d been looking for something to say that would liven up the conversation, but the only interesting thing about yourself was the only thing you couldn’t tell him.

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Tall Tee - Torstein.net