I haven’t made a fashion faux pas in a while, and feel like I’ve experimented way more over the past 12 months, giving the rag bag rejects one last airing and matching them with newer items of clothing in a bid to create something …acceptable. Far from being a slave to the vintage rails and charity shops which, if you hadn’t noticed, aren’t cheap anymore, I’m doing a great job of making do wiv what uv’ got! Until this morning.
Why I did it, I’ll never know, but in my haste to leave the flat and get on the bus, I put on a pair of short leggings. The weather has improved by miles lately, but it’s still not warm enough for the pedal leggings. ‘Pedal leggings’, will you get a load of me??
That was my first mistake.
On my way out the door, I finished off with a fashion faux pas the size of Olly Murs’ forehead. I put on knee-high boots.. leaving a window of flesh between where the leggings finished and the boots began(!) I could have changed. I could have gone back into the chaos of my bedroom where my boyfriend was still blow drying his bloody hair flinging shirts, ties and towels behind him.
But I got on the bus.
Not one to allow others to notice in their own time, I explained to my colleagues that I was aware of my legging issue the second I walked through the door. ‘It’s quite cool!’ one of them said. The one that’s crazy.
My boss took one look at me, picked me up and carried me out the office. He closed the door and left me standing there wishing I was dead. Good to know we’re back on track after the whole quitting my job thing.
I know there are starving people in the world and wearing a pair of short leggings isn’t that bad, but the moral of this benign little tale is, if you don’t like what you’ve got on at 8am, you’ll wish to god you’d listened to yourself by 9.