How bad clothes happen to good people*:
1. You buy a new item of clothing – let’s say, for example, you actually find a pair of knee-high boots that more or less fit around your skinny calves and if they are a little loose, the style has a slight slouch to it, so they look as if they are meant to be a bit saggy.
2. You are dying to wear the new item, so (if you are an iron-on-demand aficionado like me) you iron a tried, true and seemingly appropriate skirt and top the night before you want to wear the boots to work.
3. While you’re lying in bed, drifting off to sleep, you wonder what on earth possessed you to iron a khaki long-sleeve tee and mentally rearrange your outfit to incorporate a teal tank with a fitted black cardi, instead – neither of which needs ironing (you’ve spent so long lying awake worrying about your outfit, you just know you’re going to sleep through the alarm and ironing time will be annihilated).
4. You sleep through the alarm.
5. For obvious reasons (like you dreamt it up at around midnight) you fail to try on the outfit to make sure it works until you are running hideously late for work - and when you put it on, it doesn’t (in oh so many ways – your legs look like tree trunks because without the tops of the boots visible, the cut of the boots make your ankles look like cankles, the shiny leather just doesn’t work with the soft velvet and the slight cowboy leaning so does not set off the long feminine A-line in the way you had hoped – or in any way at all, really). Hmm.
6. You change the skirt for something else black but shorter and shiny from Supré and things are looking better.
7. You do your makeup to complement the teal top but as you are drying your hair you notice the clothes that you have put together and wonder if you are blind, got dressed in the dark or flushed your fashion sense down the toilet by mistake.
8. You are now running so late that you are going to have to invent a flat car battery or dog diarrhoea when you finally get to work. You sooo don’t have time to iron anything else (you are now strictly limited to non-iron items) and your peachy coloured makeup precludes three-quarters of your wardrobe. It’s the ratty black polo neck or the floaty, sheer shirt. Did I mention it is four degrees?
9. You bravely vamp up the tragic ensemble with a black leather jacket, muss your hair, shooting for a breezy, insouciant style and try to break up the goth impersonation with some bling – and then discard it because it makes you look like a tragic Christmas tree.
10. Your friend’s warning that there is a fine line between an outfit and a costume rings loudly in your ears as you arrive at work inexcusably late without your coffee, muttering about Australian idol auditions running behind and trying to brazen out the puzzled stares at your wardrobe choices. You know it’s going to be a long day and you are going to feel stupid and ugly for every drawn out second of it. But you survive.
11. The next day, three admin girls and the receptionist are wearing dingy all black clothing with bedhead hair and cowboy boots. The general manager circulates a memo reminding staff of the dress code.
Its so simple to be a man.
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