tell regina I made gucci happen

it’s gúcci everywhere. my eyes are lookin’ through a sea of gúcci. to a bigger ocean of gúcci.

but yo it’s okay because if you look up gucci in the dictionary (or the nearest AP style book); the only thing you’ll find is me (but also if you attempt to look up ‘Elise’ it’ll only refer you back to gucci) (side note, this is metaphorical gucci and not the designer brand or rapper) (well i mean let’s not totally rule out my home boy radric).

so sorry gretchen. gucci is the new fetch (but lol because fetch wasn’t gonna happen anyways).


everyone dresses and looks like they’re coming straight out of a vogue magazine and they probably eat caviar as their mid-morning snack. oh, just walked around for 9 hours on uneven cobblestone uphill in the sun with a giant sweater on? what of it? i only sweat gucci (this is goals, man. or as the spanish would say #metas).

like these are the kind of people who contour and wouldn’t be caught dead at a place as tacky as MAC, dahhling. well i say. *sets down obese, hardly breathing pug and rips off antique monocle from 1778 indignantly*

this is an entirely accurate exaggeration. like escalate yourself (before you esca-break yourself) to the 2nd floor of H&M and you buy those exercise clothes (tbh i’m mostly using this as a command to myself because i almost cried from joy when i found it) and you take off that gucci facade and you understand why los estados unidos got it figured out with their public acceptance of athletic clothing.

for real, you can only wear nice clothes so much before you esca-break and find yourself wearing 3 sweaters that are so big you start lookin’ for the russian circus and soon enough you’re eating nutella out of the glass*** jar (okay shout out to the fancy nutella having a jar of glass –not hearts, sorry christina– but that’s your only freebie, europe) with only a menchie’s spoon you packed (if you think about it, you can’t imagine NOT bringing it).

in addition to all that stuff i just said (because i guess i’m not done yet) i hate women’s tights because it’s like having to wear pants when you chose a dress specifically for that purpose (is there any other?) but this fashion thing here is too much (especially because if you’re a human being like myself then you always rip them in the first 4 seconds of putting them on). people in the streets automatically stared at my knees (the only thing from my whole body that was exposed). i felt the shame of a nathaniel hawthorne character, but with more to lose than the little town/quiet village. and where everyone’s thinkin you be bringing it arooound towwwnnn like spongebob.

but i wanted adventure in the great wide somewhere, too.

so i brought gucci to spain. these people know how to dress with the suave that matches a medium vodka dry martini. with a slice of lemon peel. shaken, not stirred. but my suave was something a little less artificial, a little less basic (sorry mr. bond).

i doubt there’s a better word to describe me than gucci (if you know me at all, don’t act like you haven’t caught yourself saying it too. it’s a thing. it’s catching. it’s catching fire. it’s katniss-ing.) so naturally i had to bring the gucci with me and make it part of all things spain.

i honestly had to capture this city called málaga. this city so gucci they couldn’t stop putting an “a” in the name (a better place for those a’s is in my future test scores, ayyyy). i was like, not in a good mood when we hiked to this view because similar to the first sip of your starbucks, it was so hot you thought the devil was tryna reach up to grab ya soul and throw it back down to hades.

in all honesty, i was trying so hard not to sweat (attention** graphic imagery, please do not actually picture this in your mind **) while carrying my purse that’s big and heavy enough to hold a baby or two, and my thick sweaters. i’ve never hated wool socks in my life. but at that moment. yeah. it was a tough walk home (and also back down, like worth the view. but eh 6/10. would possibly maybe recommend).

so everyone knows. this is the leonardo dicaprio of my life. this is the started here. at alcazaba. with me. (not with the origin and construction of the fortress/castle, the years 1050-60 AD were a busy time for me). but. gucci. in europa.

so to end my weird tirade. it’s gúcci. con acento en ‘u’. because cuando en españa; sometimes you just gotta keep climbing to the top (with your dad’s hella cool old jansport hiking backpack and jeans jacket from who knows when) (like early 80s if we’re gonna ballpark it) and see how far you can go.

because i promise you the view will be muy, muyyy gúcci. este es un mundo que no has visto todo.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s