Thursday, 13 March 2014

Picking an outfit.

Three little words – one huge task.

I have a work night out tomorrow night. I've known about it for weeks, shrugged it off in the past seven days, and felt that now – the day before – was the right time to start planning an outfit.  

I'm suddenly repulsed by everything I own – must buy something new.
Everyone will want a photo taken with me – gotta look goooood.
If I don't get this outfit right, society as a whole is going to shun me.
Oh - none of the above are true? I'm just going to carry on behaving like they are anyway…

As I was trying to explain to a male colleague this morning – 24 hours is a very tight window for arranging the outfit, the back-up outfit and the back-up for the back-up when I come to realise that I hate everything I've already picked. Suddenly, I'm trying to piece together three outfits in a matter of hours, can't find those shoes I was going to wear and I'm breaking out in cold sweats. I'M NOT A SUPERHUMAN.

Even once I've picked the outfits, I'm really only half way there. Take option one, for example: white shirt, leather trousers, black heels. Pretty manageable, right? Then reality hits…



See where I’m going with this? Even once I’ve found something to wear, my mind is already trying to talk me out of it. It comes down to this – wear the outfit you want but be someone else for the night, or find something mediocre to wear and be the drunken riot that everyone knows and loves! I already know the answer. I’ll give you a hint: it involves gin. But that won’t stop me obsessing over it until the last minute when I’m forced to make a decision and spend the rest of the night regretting it.

Why the overwhelming need to look perfect on a night out? Comments below, please! 

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