Tinderellie, Tinderellie…
At 18, chatting to a guy was usually as easy as showing up in a nightclub and having the guts to speak to people. We wore what we wanted, and we looked pretty good, even though we thought that we didn’t. Our flaws were glossed over by the exuberance of youth, and we had nothing… Continue reading Tinderellie, Tinderellie…