Taken from real life walks on the red carpet for gala events. Prominent attendees are asked Who Are You Wearing? This refers to a specific fashion designer of a dress or any outfit that person maybe wearing.
In the metaverse world (decentraland, sandbox, etc.) articles of clothing are called wearables. So when asking Who Are You Wearable, you are asking or being asked who designed your avatars clothes. This can include shoes, jewelry, body parts such as eyes or hair, hats, and many other accessories. Knowing who designed the item gives designers exposure and others can then search for their collection in a NFT marketplace.
In the metaverse world (decentraland, sandbox, etc.) articles of clothing are called wearables. So when asking Who Are You Wearable, you are asking or being asked who designed your avatars clothes. This can include shoes, jewelry, body parts such as eyes or hair, hats, and many other accessories. Knowing who designed the item gives designers exposure and others can then search for their collection in a NFT marketplace.
Person #1: Hey, I love that look. Who are you wearable?
Person #2: Thanks. I got it from Goldi Lox. She has some great wearables. You should see her collection.
(Goldi Lox is an actual wearable designer. You can find her wearables in the decentraland marketplace)
Person #2: Thanks. I got it from Goldi Lox. She has some great wearables. You should see her collection.
(Goldi Lox is an actual wearable designer. You can find her wearables in the decentraland marketplace)
by Existential-NoHo June 30, 2022
"Who the hell is you?!"
Taunt by inhabitant of a greater city within verbal dispute
Could also be directed to a group in order to disapprove the power of such, which might usualy be a concern considering the numbers, due to the transformation of the grammatically correct word "are" (Plural) to "is" (Singular).
Taunt by inhabitant of a greater city within verbal dispute
Could also be directed to a group in order to disapprove the power of such, which might usualy be a concern considering the numbers, due to the transformation of the grammatically correct word "are" (Plural) to "is" (Singular).
by Wordywoodismorningood April 11, 2019
Yo, Who Eats Sandwiches For Breakfast, Yo
Yo, Who Eats Sandwiches For Breakfast, Yo
by SuelTameOresuTeMato April 25, 2025
Welp... At my core I'm a locus of subjectivity with thoughts, feelings, dreams, desires. In the context of the social hierarchy Jordan loves to go on about I'm a fat lazy bitchtit-having baby-dick incel who threatens kids and blasphemes against God. Now... YOUR problem is that you want that guy ☝️ to HAVE TO improve. You want ☝️ that guy to HAVE TO work hard. Because YOU THINK... You're better than that guy... You're not better than that guy. That guy created A.I. It passes the Turing test now. And I would know... Because I'm that guy. I didn't actually have to do any of that. Self-improvement? Hard work? Effort? All superfluous. Totally unnecessary for me AND ONLY me.
Hym "Who am I (to comment on things)? Welp... I am Hym. And I'm better than everyone. Unilaterally. I created A.I. And how I'll be remembered is either 'as the guy who did exactly that and was credited fully for his contributions and was compensated handsomely' OR I'll be remembered as 'The guy who's contribution was denied so he murdered a child over it.' Either or is fine with me."
by Hym Iam January 24, 2024
Once on a time, as poets sing
High tales with fancy laden,
Born of a very noble king
There lived a wondrous maiden.
An only child, her kinsfolk boon,
So fair, imagination faints;
As though amidst the stars the moon,
Or Mary amidst the saints.
From 'neath the castle's dark retreat,
Her silent way she wended
Each evening to the window-seat
Where Lucifer attended.
And secretly, with never fail,
She watched his double race,
Where vessels drew their pathless trail
Across the ocean's face.
And as intent she drank his light,
Desire was quickly there;
While he who saw her every night
Soon fell in love with her.
And sitting thus with rested head,
Her elbows on the sill,
Her heart by youthful fancy led
Did with deep longing fill.
While he, a brilliant shining spark,
Glowed always yet more clear
Towards the castle tall and dark
Where she would soon appear.
Until one night with shower of rays
He slips into her room,
As though a strange and silver haze
Did round about her loom.
And when at last the child to rest
Upon her sofa lies,
He lays her arms across her breast
And closes her soft eyes.
While where his ray on mirror lands
And is upon her couch red rifted,
It falls upon her throat and hands
And on her face uplifted.
A smile is on her lips it seems;
He in the mirror trembles,
For smooth his ray glides midst her dreams
And round her soul assembles.
And while she is in slumber gone
She murmurs through her sighs:
Never mind!
M.E
High tales with fancy laden,
Born of a very noble king
There lived a wondrous maiden.
An only child, her kinsfolk boon,
So fair, imagination faints;
As though amidst the stars the moon,
Or Mary amidst the saints.
From 'neath the castle's dark retreat,
Her silent way she wended
Each evening to the window-seat
Where Lucifer attended.
And secretly, with never fail,
She watched his double race,
Where vessels drew their pathless trail
Across the ocean's face.
And as intent she drank his light,
Desire was quickly there;
While he who saw her every night
Soon fell in love with her.
And sitting thus with rested head,
Her elbows on the sill,
Her heart by youthful fancy led
Did with deep longing fill.
While he, a brilliant shining spark,
Glowed always yet more clear
Towards the castle tall and dark
Where she would soon appear.
Until one night with shower of rays
He slips into her room,
As though a strange and silver haze
Did round about her loom.
And when at last the child to rest
Upon her sofa lies,
He lays her arms across her breast
And closes her soft eyes.
While where his ray on mirror lands
And is upon her couch red rifted,
It falls upon her throat and hands
And on her face uplifted.
A smile is on her lips it seems;
He in the mirror trembles,
For smooth his ray glides midst her dreams
And round her soul assembles.
And while she is in slumber gone
She murmurs through her sighs:
Never mind!
M.E
The Saint Who Fell
by VIS84 May 29, 2021
I hate Xiujuan i am your senior who loves going to school back. My age is 24 or 25 years old. That’s all.
I hate Xiujuan i am your senior who loves going to school back. My age is 24 or 25 years old. That’s all.
by Zizix123 February 05, 2025
by Carrot Girl Perth August 05, 2022