If I could describe my dress sense I would say…. imagine a giraffe standing on three 3 legs. Yes, that’s exactly how awkward I look and feel. Having bipolar and an eating disorder to boot, I’ve never been one to frequent dressing rooms. The lighting and the mirrors and the cramped quarters, uh uh, they have me running for the parking lot.
But since I’m divorced and all like, free and everything *twirls* I thought it was time to invest in a good quality wardrobe that reflects my style and personality, such as it is evolving to be. A big step since I know nothing about fashion. Jeans and t-shirts have been my wardrobe staple. So fashion is a challenge for a fledgling like myself. Jeggings, skinny jeans, the bootleg vs the flare, hobo handbags, a kitten heel, maxi dresses ? It all has me confounded. I mean, if I buy the hobo bag does it come with or without the shopping trolley? Hey, its a valid question.
So I’m going to buy myself a pair of boots. I don’t have any. I wear practical pumps. The last time I wore boots was in the dark ages of the early 90’s when grunge was in, cool was out and everybody who was anybody sported the uniform black outfit, matching black eyeliner and an original pair of Doc Martins. If you had Docs, you were the ‘real deal’.
But that was then and this is now. I bought a dress the other day. In a shopping mall. Social anxiety be damned. I ran the gauntlet through several changing rooms and made it through to the other side unscathed. But now I have a hankering for boots. So I scoured the online catalogues to see what took my fancy. I’ve fallen in love with combat boots. I blame the gritty 90’s grunge era. Yet again I asked a question of my colleagues – is camouflage clothing a prerequisite for combat boots? To which my boss replied – no, but you’ll have to leopard crawl into the department everyday.
So, this weekend I’m off to buy some combat boots. I hope to divide and conquer. Return home victorious. And on Monday, I’ll leopard crawl into work.