Walk, walk fashion baby

Fashion is not my thing. I’ll pin the occasional haute couture or prêt-à-porter item on Pinterest, but I’d rather be looking at Star Wars humor posts or knitting. When Adam found out I didn’t know Bond’s pea coat was designed in Alabama, he was pretty shocked. Basically, if you leave out the holiday sweaters and herd of tiny dogs, I’m a nerdy 60-year-old trapped in a 23-year-old’s body.

Aside from a turtleneck and some layering shirts, all of my clothing is at least two years old. I hate shopping, Black Friday and malls, so I buy classic items so I don’t have to go there often. The last time my mom took me shopping for my birthday, I got the same shirt in six colors. Don’t worry, I don’t normally wear two in the same week.

Being 6’1”, most shirts show part of my stomach and most skirts make me look like a streetwalker, so when I find something I like, I’ll usually buy it. Recently, the only place that has consistently had clothing that fit has been J. Crew. Their designs usually feature clean lines and modest enough cuts for daily wear, even for me.

In the past two years, I’ve only been able to find one pair of slacks that were decently flattering. They’re even long enough that I can wear heels, but the walk from the parking lot to my office precludes the use of four of the five pairs of work appropriate shoes I own.

Because the department of the company I work for is quite conservative, my work clothes are pretty uniform. Most days you’ll catch me in the black pointy-toed flats, gray wide-legged slacks, messy hair and a vacuum tube necklace. The only regular change is the shirt I pair with this combination. Sad, I know, but I can only do so much in the fifteen minutes before my 30 minute commute.

My closet is full enough that if I wanted to, I could dress well and looked polished every day. It’s been so much easier recently to stay rumpled—to dress appropriately for work but not look entirely professional. If you ask Adam, if I’m rumpled it’s only because of the science.

Title comes from Lady Gaga's "Bad Romance." We've already established I have a penchant for trashy music.