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…

Dream:

Reality:

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!