Although I work remotely, there are those rare set of days where I stop by the office to do some work but really it’s just an excuse to showcase my latest office attire. One of my favorite things to do is to think of all the possible office outfits I might be able to pull off and how to make them as personal and inconsistent as I possibly can. When it comes to the office, I’d say from a scale of one to Pam, I’m a Kelly. I generally don’t care about anyone but myself and what makes me happy. Also, I’m in a toxic relationship with my co-worker which is basically anything food related that stands within a 5 mile radius from where I work.
For a girl who has never worked at a serious job a day in her life before this gig, I find it a little curious as to why my closet consists mainly of office appropriate blouses, dresses, and skirts and a set of widely acceptable work pants. I guess I’m just drawn to all those fantasy-like pieces that reminds me of what being a grownup should look like. Note: my vision is a little gauzy from sipping too many martinis -in my case, beer- which has resulted in permanent sex and the city beer goggles.
Unfortunately for me, my job and my office is far from having any perspective or slight representation of having any New York City vibes or fashion struck scenes. A flock of careless jeans and overused polos roams about the rooms more often than they obviously should and discernibly impedes not on any of my uncommon dictations on what to wear. Unruly ponchos, bright mini skirts, and horse-patterned tops are statements, not choices. The receiving end may not appreciate those bell-sleeved pants, or the bright mixtures of patterns and layers and mittens and things. What happens then? Nothing. You say fuck it. Because you look good; Carrie Bradshaw Good.
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