Listen, do I know why Miley Cyrus is dashing around London in sensible-yet-chic black trousers, sweater, and boots, sporting a blow-out and the perfect (like, perfect) red lip? No. I also don’t understand how planes work, or what the hell is happening on Riverdale. Some things are just not meant to be questioned, but merely to be accepted:
I am happy to accept this. I’ll accept it until further notice!