Everyday, I stand in front of my overflowing wardrobe and think that same thing that every girl thinks at least once a week: "I have nothing to wear." I've wondered how it's possible that a wardrobe can have so many clothes and nothing looks good for the day.
Then I started thinking back to the days of university... when I lived off-campus for a year in a house with no mirrors and left the house every morning without a clue what I looked like. It was the same year I was editing the university newspaper which meant little sleep, no social life and the distinct indifference to what I looked like when I trampled onto campus every morning.
Strangely enough, I seem to remember that I got the most attention from boys that year - everyone wanted to flirt with me, and one of the boys I ended up dating for a bit told me he'd adored me from a distance the entire year. My first thought was not that it was so romantic of him to be pining away from afar, but that it was slightly blind of him to have thought my mullet (growing out from GI Jane hair, or lack thereof) and oversized jumpers were in any way attractive.
The other day, I traipsed out to meet some friends in, literally, something I just threw on. Giant skirt, old t-shirt and ungroomed hair. They all exclaimed that I looked so lovely that day. Like, how?!
Then, if and when I throw on something magnificent, new, shiny, disgustingly, beautifully in fashion, nobody bats an eyelid.
So perhaps I should stop trying, start improvising on the spot with whatever my hand first picks out from the lucky draw of my wardrobe. Everyone seems to love me better that way - dishevelled, ugly, uncoordinated. Au naturel, maybe?