Thursday, June 14, 2007

Crayola Scissors

It's possible that I have become frumpy.

Every morning I get dressed in the quasi-darkness, look myself over, think "That looks just fine!" and then run out the door. If my Better Half happens to be conscious, he rolls over and mumbles that I look "soooo cute" and then immediately falls back asleep (It's dark, his eyes are closed, but he still says it! Sweet!). I feel encouraged, and off I go.

But see, I am the kind of gal who always opts for comfort over everything else. Shoes, shirts, pants, you name it. If it isn't some sort of natural fibre (my skin crawls under polyester) and if it isn't cozy, I usually don't wear it. By the time I get to the office, however, and see everyone in their snazzy suits and funky heels, I feel like I went to work in my pyjamas. This feeling only gets worse in trendier cities like Toronto or Montreal. I'm not sure how some people have time to micro-manage their outfits, matching makeup and accessories, but I lack the kind of dedication it takes to get that obsessed. I wake up at 5:30 am. I'm more focused on catching my bus than straightening my hair or ironing my skirt. I would love to look that together, but I'm really just not there. Together is not my thing.

And I might be wrong about this, but I feel like having an office job has hindered my non-office wardrobe. I no longer have a use for many of my more interesting outfits, some of which include severely patched army pants, feminist t-shirts, an array of jeans, sneakers, and dresses I long to wear. My pink heels? My green shoes with anime characters on them? My slouchy boots in mustard yellow? Let's face it. Those are for fun, not business. And waking up as early as I do means that I no longer stay out until 2am testing out the recesses of my wardrobe.

Le sigh.

In related news, I suddenly feel justified in getting a new pair of shoes. And maybe a haircut that doesn't involve me, clutching crayola scissors, making "adjustments" over the bathroom sink.


M-A said...

Imagine what it's like living in Tokyo! So many cute clothes, so many great outfits (and shoes, oh god, the shoes, have I told you about the shoes here?) do I see walking down the streets each day. And living here involves a lot of walking, so the shoe question is doubly important. To high heel, or not to high heel?

Unfortunately (or fortunately, for my budget, I guess) I am not built like the average Japanese woman, so any look requiring a distinct lack of hips will not work on my frame. On the other hand, I have a bum, so I can snicker at the derrière-lifting underwear (push-up panties!) I see advertised in so many stores.

Andrea SK said...


Well, perhaps my problem will be solved when I come to visit you! I clearly need to purchase some of those undies just so I can show them off back home... :)

Anonymous said...

I hear that. I'm the frumpiest in my workplace too. It seems everyone's come to accept it as the best I can do. I like to teeter the line between "barely acceptable" and "dispicable embarrassment".

Although I finally got my hair cut last weekend...thankfully, a friend did it for free, saving me dozens of dollars.

Be frumpy! Force comfort into the workplace!

love Shawna

Andrea SK said...

That makes me feel better... Some of us just aren't good at looking polished. But we can jam like nobody's business. ;)

Erin said...

I can't even be bothered to "condition hair" let alone iron, makeup, comb, accessorize, colour coordinate! Amen to that. I also hate plucking, shaving, manies, pedies etc etc. Yet, I am all about the bath. I spend more money on the prettiest smelling soap than most people. But it smells so good! There is this wonderful stuff from France that costs about 10.00 a bar, I even have to get it from that made in france store on dalhousie. But oh moma! It's wicked.
Also, speaking of low maintenance, I get my hair cut for 14.00 in a town called Adelaide' (right beside tractor depot, I kid not) 9 hours from here, by a woman who cuts hair in her house.
Wow, it`s like I made dressing down into a pissing contest! HE HEEE.