So, my 18th birthday was on Monday, and I’ve been far too busy celebrating the joyous occasion that is Québécois legality to post about it. You know, with all the binge-drinking, toasting in my honour, grinding it up on the dancefloor, and all the #totesamaze shit that most first-years drunkenly partake in, it’s only normal that recounting the epic that was my 18th birthday sorta slipped my mind.
Hahaha, ratchet hoe please.
Ahhh, if only that were actually the case! Instead, I shit you not, I embarrassingly enough spent my entire 18th birthday stuDYING (ha! so witty) for a final. Thanks to university, I know realize that having a birthday in December isn’t really as fun as I spent the previous 17 years of my life believing. While before I was able to look forward to my birthday, the winter holidays and Christmas all within a span of 2 short weeks, now you can also add make-it-or-fucking-break-it finals to that damn equation. Like seriously, you guys don’t understand how shitty is it waking up on your birthday knowing that your entire day is nothing more than a countdown to a three-hour legit nail-biting sesh of major stressing and “wtf is this question?” pondering. Ahhh, the joys of university and turning 18!
Whatevs tho, I thankfully made sure that finals season wouldn’t stop me from truly celebrating what I have spent my entire life waiting for: being legal in Quebec and not having to fear rejection at clubs. As trivial as that may sound, you guys legit have no fucking idea how long I’ve been waiting for this damn day. Though it’s only actually been nothing more than 2 years, the fact remains that I’m impatient as fuck, and, believe or not, am also not quite fond of the notion of rejection. Especially when that rejection takes the shape of a gorilla-looking bouncer telling you that he will “legit chase you down the street” if you dare try getting into his club one more time.
Accordingly, the first thing I did to celebrate my 18th birthday was actually completed a week before the fated day. Though, in this post, I had previously mused about purchasing an expensive WANT Les Essentiels de la Vie tote for my birthday just ’cause it was expensive and I felt like spending mad ca$h money, I finally decided to ditch that idea, and invest in something less “spoiled brat basic”, and more hardworking “spoiled brat practical” . I mean, as much as I love carrying a bag “outfitted with useful pockets” (hahaha), that shit just couldn’t cut it for me, especially in the context of my 18th birthday. I needed something that would instantly scream “pretentious black hipster seeking to cultivate his own personal brand via items he can keep forever”. With that said, only time (pun obvi intended) would allow me to see what I desperately needed: a motherfucking watch.
And a motherfucking watch is what I got.
Though at first I wasn’t entirely certain a watch was really an appropriate way of celebrating the drunken legality that is turning 18, I now realize how wrong I was seeing as it truly is the perfect way of splurging on something that totes emanates rich luxe vibez via understated minimalism. Despite the fact that many people would say that my watch is too basic, those people are obvi just jealous basic bitches with shitall better to do other sipping on far too much haterade (lol so corny). Nevertheless, this watch is way more me than any gaudy immitation G-Shock or any other clunky-ass, diamond-encrusted watch “hip” people my age wear. If that shit is big, flashy and desperate for attention, it def ain’t for me. When you think about it, it’s pretty ironic how the only images those types of blatantly expensive watches evoke are those of poseur ratchetness.
Clearly a case of basic-bitch-itis if you ask me.
Anyhow, a clear sign of how pleased I am with my decision to invest in a watch for my 18th birthday is the fact that, even a week after my actual birthday, I actually still look forward to putting it on every single morning . I mean, if that isn’t a materialistic match made in fashun heaven, I seriously don’t know what is. Now that, in turning 18, I’ve made it rain on a totes frivolous purchase (who really needs a damn watch either way?), and have also finally delivered myself from the rejection-binding chains of the curse of being 17, it’s high-time that I enjoy my recently acquired legality and get #whitegirlwasted. Naturally, I owe it to both myself and all the people who have heard me bitch and moan about how much I hated being 17. After all, as a university freshman, it is my duty, I daresay, my life calling.
(legal) #WGW4lyfe tho.
**Oh yeah, before I forget, yes I did stage a totes “impromptu” photoshoot for my watch. Don’t judge, it was the first day after the end of my finals, and, after all the studying I had just done, I had no idea what else to do to with my newfound free time. Obvi a typical case of the mushy brain following academic over-exertion. #firstworldproblems
So, this track has pretty much been ma jam since I first heard it on the Booty Bakery compilation (woooo Montreal talent!) a short week ago. Though the entirety of the song is pretty fucking amazing, I’m most drawn by how damn minimal the whole thing is, from the understated bassline to the (naturally) incomprehensible vocal sample. None of this is really surprising seeing as this dazzling musical offering is by two of the most regrettably underrated acts in bass music: Kaytranada and Sango. Magic.
Though I’m not really the biggest fan of Mykki Blanco ’cause he reminds me too much of a gay version of Nicki Minaj, this song is definitely the standout star on his debut mixtape. There’s just something about the mysteriously perverted, quasi-occult vibez that the song evokes. As pretentious as that description may sound, I understand. Nonetheless, the interplay of what sounds like violins and a chorus composed of only “Tonight I’m fucking the DJ” is pretty ingeniously sublime if you ask me. You seriously can’t ask for any better production from Boody and Le1f!