Monkeyshines.

When my brother was in grade school, he came home one day and shared a story one of his friends had presented to the class, in which she explained that her intense love for bananas had, in fact, turned her into a banana. And then back into a girl again, I guess.

Speaking of bananas and love, I love monkeys; absolutely love them. How cute are they? Even the funky looking buddies are cute, and all I want to do is squeeze one (google this, it's called cute aggression and it's the reason why you bite the inside of your cheeks when you see a puppy, and it is a very real thing). Sometimes—and by this I mean always—I wish a monkey would be my friend so we could hang out. To clarify, this doesn't mean I would want him or her as a pet, because I think that's cruel: I'd simply want him or her to sit with me on the couch and join in my Netflix viewing. Or we could eat bananas. Or shout at things. Maybe not fling poo, though, because I'm not so into that.

I love monkeys so much I would probably turn into one if I could, thus completing the ongoing devolution I suspect I've been going through.

J. Crew linen tee.

Zara blazer and boots.

H&M disco pants.

Recycled glass necklace.