the cathedral

Apparently, junk can go through an insane revival process and somehow reach holy status. I've been meaning to check out The Cathedral of Junk in Austin over the past few months, but the idea of having nostalgic scrap in every possible peripheral took a bit of time to sort out before committing to an official visit. I'm practically kicking myself at the moment for not having gone earlier— ancient surfboards, junk thrones, scribbled graffiti notes, Formichetti-like panda stickers and stained glass everything shouldn't be missed out on. Oh, and there's the fact that this place is practically a techno treehouse (think of the possibilities). I did a bit of reviving of my own out of respect for the setting by bringing back that gnawed sweatshirt that manages to work its way into every casual situation. I'm hoping it lasts a lifetime and doesn't degrade into smithereens. The security blanket (i.e. jacket) and other details are the usual. 

I think I discovered Nicola Formichetti's refrigerator. 

(h&m sweatshirt and belt, zara jacket and shoes)

I had a difficult time resisting the temptation to yank off any memento in immediate radius but
 fear of a tumbling treehouse sort of kicked in at the last minute.