Today a friend asked me what she should wear to a sort-of interview at a hip internet news site, where the dress is casual but hip casual in that funky San Francisco bowling shoe kind of way.
"Umm. Cute pants with a twin set, funky jewelry and a denim jacket," I said, knowing that I was pulling the whole thing out of my preppy New England ass.
She smiled.
I have no idea how to dress. The editors at In Style would sneer at me if they could. Those women know how to dress for everything and I mean EVERYTHING. Every time I pick up that magazine, I want to tear out the pages that give ideas for outfits to wear to every conceivable event. A bris? No problem. A third wedding? A lawn party at your gay boss' house? There you go. It's an ability that I will never have.
My friend E is a flagrant clotheshorse, with an income to match her spending habits. Once, when I met her years ago, I complimented her on a dress she was wearing from some swanky store. "Thanks," she said. "But you couldn't afford it." She was right--I couldn't. But at least I had taste, right?
If I had my way, I'd wear tank tops and yoga pants to work every day. I appreciate style when I see other people who have it, but I'm way too conservative for my own good. One of the good things that living in LA did for me was it forced me to acknowledge the existence of colors other than black, navy blue, green and khaki. Pink?!?! What a concept. Now I own more pink than I know what to do with. But I still can't put together an outfit in Jasmine/Sola to save my life.
2 comments:
I feel like anyone could dress as nice as they say in those glamor mags if they had buttloads of money. Show me a fashion magazine that features Target and Wal*Mart and then I'll be able to afford it!
I can't fit an outfit from Jasmine Sola around one butt cheek.
I'm gonna show up to the interview in a burqa. And funky jewelry.
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