learning to trust my own opinions and expertise
Of course, just because I love the greatest TV show ever (yo) it doesn’t follow that I can write or produce anything worthy of screen time. And oh, how I do love to swear. I do, I do. But I cannot swear with impunity.
So it is that my love of fashion doesn’t render me a fashionista, or even impart on me a stylish je ne sais quoi. Sure, I put in the effort to look good, but my innate sense of practicality and comfort, peared with my body shape, leave me about two (three, four?) steps behind those people out on the street who make you gasp with their ability to pull it all together.
So I have settled for looking “done” – that is, I’ve put in obvious effort, without going so far as to look like I’ve failed at what I was trying to achieve.
Those good folks at The Lounge want me to tell you my greatest fashion fail. It is not an outfit but a state of mind. A time of life when I continued to wear outfits that I knew looked no good, but I was used to wearing them, people at work were used to seeing them, and so it felt like no harm was being done.
But of course there was harm – I was showing myself a complete lack of self- respect, acting as if I didn’t deserve better. And that cuts deeper into your psyche than a one day outing of flouro legwarmers ever could.
I’ve left that place now.
For good, motherfuckers.
Check out more tales of fashion woe with the link hosted by The One and Only, That Renowned Sartorial Genius, Slap Dash Mama