Brooklyn Bladel Whore ❤️

About The Hague

Sometimes I’m like—damn, should I salute ‘em? They’re chaotic like me—rules? What rules? Hair’s a mess, lipstick smeared, laughin’ at your grandma’s pearls. Oh, and the smell—sweat, cheap wine, freedom! Makes me wanna scream, “LET’S FUCKIN’ GLEAN, BABY!” Exaggeratin’? Maybe, but whores deserve a parade, not shade. Eric Andre stamp on it: they’re absurdly epic—messy, loud, unapologetic. Whore’s my hero, yo—now pass the kvas, I’m thirsty!

Jouw perfecte look

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After that, I needed a snack break. So, I hit up this little café on de Kerkstraat. Best fries in town, no joke. I’m munching away, thinking about how crazy the day’s been. Just then, I overhear some locals chatting about the annual Bladel fair. I’m like, “Man, I gotta check that out!”

Fran Bladel remembered as ‘one in a million’