Fine. You guys got me. I haven’t done a straight-up, non-travel, non-editorial or non-work related personal get-up of mine since June. June. Where did the year go? Shooting Christmas trees in October was terrifying enough. On every one of the six flights I sat through last week, take-off and landing were serenaded by painfully awkward jazz interpretations of Yuletide tunes. You know the ones. The new retiree couple sitting across the aisle from you tap their toes and call it ‘groovy’. Michael Bublé is likely responsible (and probably not hating the millions he’s been raking in since I was 12 and thought his name was pronounced Bubble).
Back to business: which at this time of year, is loosely translated to wading my way through the last of my law subjects by way of Summer School (highly recommend smashing out courses in a couple of weeks if you can stomach the obscene price tag… who am I kidding, no student can); recovering from the terrifying jetlag of covering four countries in ten days; convincing myself that I can use Thanksgiving as an excuse for the ridiculous amount of food I’ve consumed in the past week; and deciding whether or not to grow my hair out now that it has started working that sexy shoulder-length Hillary Clinton flick (but for real, what do you guys think?). In my survival of all of these trivial problems, various incarnations of this look have basically been my staple set since final exams started a few weeks ago:
- Hair up and drowned in seasalt spray to hide its dire need for Paloma’s attention (and probable admonishment at the state of my scalp given that I keep forgetting to pack shampoo and conditioner on work trips, so end up relying on atrociously packaged and gloriously dehydrating hotel bathroom kits). Also, #asiangirlhairproblems.
- Some variety of a corporate-blue, slouchy man shirt.
- Lacey bralette to remind yourself that you are not, in fact, asexual (as much as the law library makes you feel it).
- The world’s most comfortable dressing gown disguised as a razor sharp blazer: preferably longline to balance out the ludicrous amount of fabric surrounding your ankles.
- Party pants to freak people out just enough that they won’t want to make small talk, and you can bust out your Hugh Grant dance moves in peace.
- Baseline black pumps – now, I am definitely not usually a pumps person at all. I didn’t think I’d be ready for them until I hit 30 – I’m much more of a heeled boot vibe. I like to keep my extensor tendons (and toe cleavage) covered. That, and there are very few ‘perfect’ pumps on the market. There’s always something a little off in the point of the toe, the curve around the back of your ankles, the angle of the stiletto, the height… but these ones are pretty close to bang-on in terms of shape.
- Neck-tie to give an illusion of some degree of sophistication and distraction from the purple bruises forming under your eyes from a bloody long year.
- No makeup. Ever.
- Serious business sunglasses to hide said eye bags and lack of knowledge on how to apply concealer, and support an awesome cause at the same time.
The illusion of having your life together (underlined by comfort) is key.