Coordinating Outfits Quotes

So, you’re dead asleep, and you get a call. Something terrible’s happened, and I’m dead. What do you do?” It took him a moment to quell the terror, to ignore the small, dark place inside him that feared getting that call every day. “Before or after I fall prostrate with grief?” “Before, during, and after. Do you peruse your wardrobe and select a coordinating outfit—down to the footwear? Do you deal with your hair so it’s perfectly groomed?” “With my considerable skills and innate instincts that would take no time at all.” “Keep it up and I’ll dump red sauce all over your fashionable smarty-pants.” “That statement is one of the countless reasons why, under the circumstances you described, I’d be lucky to remember to dress at all.

I arrange to meet Kimmie and Wes before homeroom the following day. The cafeteria serves breakfast for early risers in the form of stale toast, oatmeal sludge, and watered-down orange juice. “This had better be worth it,” Wes says. “By my calculation, I’d say you’re denying us at least thirty minutes of sleep.” “Not to mention precious primping time.” Kimmie motions to her outfit: a black leather poodle skirt paired with a glittery pink T that reads DEMON IN TRAINING. “Like it? I also have a coordinating pitchfork, but in all this rush I forgot it at home.” “Along with your sense of style,” Wes jokes, resting his cheek against her shoulder.

I wore an emerald long-sleeved dress by Vivienne Tam and a pair of tangerine Christian Louboutins. I had seen the same look in one of Emerald's Vogues and asked Giada to overnight it. I learned quickly, though I wasn't very original. I'd changed in a coffee shop next to my apartment, then hopped into a cab. "Next time we must coordinate outfits beforehand," Michael whispered as we sat down. "I was going for 'salt of the earth' today." "Oh, I wanted to match the décor," I said. Tellicherry felt like a sexy, sinister jewel box. A rich sapphire blue stained the walls in large, meandering splotches, like dye dropped into water. Bronze silk leaped and dipped in the cushions. The waitresses wore black dresses with seductive lace panels revealing flesh-colored bits, and the waiters slinked in semi-sheer pajama-like outfits, conjuring bedtime escapades, none of which involved sleeping.

Or do you only like bands where the guys coordinate their outfits?

So now that you’re in like with me, do you think we should start color coordinating our outfits?” She rolled her eyes and groaned. During the last half hour of our car ride, I’d hounded her about her confession. Mostly because I liked to see her squirm. Well, and because she liked me. I was freaking stoked. So I teased her about everything from the necessity of pet names to the value of posting couples’ selfies on various forms of social media to suggestions about our “celebrity” name—I was rooting for Macity. “For what it’s worth, I’m in serious dislike of you right now.” I laughed, enjoying this way too much. “We should also start having sleepovers…since you’re in like with me.” She pressed her palms to her forehead then dragged them down her face. “Oh. My. God. I’m going to kill you before we even make it out of this car.” “Tomorrow I’ll run to the store and get extra toothbrushes so we can keep them at each other’s places. Should I get his and hers towels too?” She banged her head on the headrest. “Too soon?” I pulled into the parking lot of the marina. “Okay, only toothbrushes.” “I’m going to murder you with that fucking toothbrush if you don’t stop saying ‘in like’ with you.” I parked the car. “You started it.” The overhead light popped on as I got out. “Mason!” I laughed as the car door shut. Grumbling, she got out, and I greeted her on the passenger side. “One more, then I promise I’m done.” I shut her door and pushed her up against it. “I’m happy you’re finally in like with me because I’ve been in like with you for a while

You could use a haircut,” she said. “It’s almost the same length as mine.” She frowned. “It makes us look like we coordinated it.” Aedion snorted, stroking the dog’s head. “So what if we did?” Aelin shrugged. “If you want to start wearing matching outfits as well, I’m in.” He grinned. “The Bane would never let me live it down.

Anything green or coffee brown?” “Are you bullshitting me?” “What?” I held my hands out. “Those are my frat colors.” “Frat colors,” Graham muttered under his breath. “You’ll wear what I throw your way. You’ve been around Lanore too long, posing in the mirror like a woman, and color coordinating your outfits with other men.