Over the years, there are still people who are obsessed with fashion, but still find themselves pronouncing some designer names wrong. Well, for someone who claims to know so much about fashion and the people who are involved, it can be quite embarrassing. So here it is, your guide to those hard-to-pronounce designer names.
NOTE: You might not see Manolo Blahnik or Valentino here, because the point of this list is not for famous designers, but for designer brands which names are hard to pronounce.
First and foremost, if you still pronounce ‘haute couture’ as ‘Hot Kew-ture or Kucher’, you’ll want to change that to ‘oat ku tour’ before you proceed. Now that you’ve got the hang of the most basic word that pretty much sums up every name below this read more, you can proceed.
Tonight I listened to a voicemail you left me three months ago.
In it, you told me to go fuck myself.
I still remember that night.
I still remember those words rolling off your tongue so gracefully.
I remember wondering how someone so beautiful could be so cruel.
Two months ago I called you at three A.M.
I expected you to ignore it, or to send me to voicemail;
those were two of the things you were best at.
You answered and I felt my heart begin to race;
you probably thought it was because I missed you,
but truthfully it was because I didn’t expect you to answer,
and because I really had to pee.
I asked you how you were and you sat there quietly and confused.
It was like you forgot that I existed and that I was once a part of your life.
You told me “fine” and I smiled.
That was the last conversation we had.
I made sure to let go of you, and every negative word that was said, in a peaceful way.
Fast forward two months, and I still wonder how you are.
I still wonder how your dog is and if you’ve seen any good movies lately.
If you ever heard me say this, you’d probably blush like you used to whenever I said something sweet.
You’d probably think I think these things because I still love you, that I still want you.
But that is not the case.
You see, six months ago I was jumping through hoops to please you.
To make sure that you were happy before myself.
To make sure that I was the one causing your happiness.
But it is not six months ago.
It is now.
And now I simply remember you as a person I gave my soul to.
A person I told secrets to at 4am and fucked to feel a sense of closeness.
A person I loved, yes.
But it is not six months ago.
It is now, and now I miss you.
I miss the way you called randomly just to ask how my day was.
I miss the way you seemed to care, even if you didn’t.
I miss the friendship and the secrets and the stories.
And maybe one day things will be different.
Maybe you’ll call me on a Tuesday afternoon and ask how my day was.
These are the things I think about before my eyes slowly close and I am finally rewarded with sleep.
But for right now?
Go fuck yourself.
i wanna know you better than the back of my hand, and what keeps you up at 2am.
i wanna know what song has been stuck in your head, and how you’d look in my bed.
i wanna know what words are on the tip of your tongue, and hear about your dreams, even when you have none.
i wanna know what brings tears to your eyes, and what your face would look like if i kissed the inside of your thighs.
i wanna know how you like your coffee in the morning, and how cute you look when you’re snoring.
i wanna know you better.