Red flannel shirt urban outfitters

Fifteen years ago I was 15 years old. V was in grammar school and I changed my hair color once every two months. I had three pairs of Dr. Martens, the inevitable red flannel shirt and blacks and transgress to feel pussy meant to put a short dress with jeans. I listened to Nirvana, but I still had the box of Space Girls hidden (not too well) somewhere. Dawson Leery was yet to come, in return Dylan McKay was a piece in our hearts. DiCaprio had entered the year before. I did not have the phone and I knew by heart the numbers of house of my friends with whom I chatted, every day, for hours on the phone. I read much, I smoked more. In mathematics I was 5 and I was on the balls to the professor, chevelodicoafare, he would have postponed to September. I was in love with blue eyes and I thought that in thirty years I had a good job, a very good salary and a closet full of bags.