I already mentioned this, but last weekend I subjected my wardrobe repertoire to a somewhat vicious cull. My shock was the bigger one, though – I say that, I mean, it confirmed what I’ve long suspected. For somebody who aspires each morning to some semblance of panache if not full-on glamour – or attempts to, anyway – I sure do take what could be classed as the world’s most languid approach to achieving this. When I appealed to my cosmetics bag to convince me otherwise…it was no help either. After all the investment I’ve made in it too, so inconsiderate. This must be my comeuppance for eschewing makeup on a daily basis…
Alongside my floordrobe manifesto (because wardrobe manifesto really is too poncey, and inaccurate to boot), I might as well share this very lazy girl’s guide to not looking too dishevelled on a daily basis, weather and circumstances permitting.
- Black. Need I say more? Okay… you should wear it. On days when you have fifteen minutes precisely to get derrière to duties, it is your very best friend.
- Drapery. A few well placed folds of fabric make you look as if you’ve tried much harder to, well, look as if you haven’t tried, and just tumbled out of bed looking mysterious yet effortlessly chic – whether you did or not. Added bonus? It works wonders to hide my food baby, Dolores.
- Red lipstick. If black is my best friend, a power lip is my supercaliente lover. No other make up gets a look in, usually, except for very special occasions. Such as Mondays…or Fridays…or those mornings when you wake up looking like death. If death had been dehydrated and microwaved back to some form of existence. It happens.
- A super gigantic handbag. Not only does it fit all my unnecessary paraphernalia, it also has the effect of persuading everybody around you that you are busy, important and therefore glamorous enough to warrant toting it around. Who really has to know that actually, stacking your Bayswater with the kitchen sink is one of the myriad of ways in which you convince yourself you’re not an awkward teenager posing as an adult? Probably not the Internet. Whoopsie.
- When all else fails…sunglasses. As big and black as you can find them, to match the dark circles. Nobody is more relieved than I that it’s getting lighter. For one thing, no longer am I dressing in so many layers that stripping is like a really convoluted and ultimately unrewarding game of Pass the Parcel. More than that, though, there’s an excuse to wear sunglasses that isn’t predicated on one’s status as a Z lister. In the depths of winter, though, there’s always a scarf, which detracts from your best zombie impression AND keeps your neck warm. Multitasking: the ultimate in lackadaisical dressing, when your clothes work harder than you do.
…There we have it. This unfeasibly indolent mademoiselle’s modus operandi when it comes to getting dressed. No wonder looking at my wardrobe is a guaranteed cure for insomnia. I’d call this a “moda operandi”, but I’ve been beaten to the pun-ch.
Either way, I’ll see myself out.