May. 20th, 2010

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Between the fact that my officey clothes are all in sizes that don't currently correlate to the size of my ass (suit: designer eight. Me: wal-mart eight) and the fact that I can stifle the "colorful" side of me for, oh, two weeks max, I have taken Miss Penelope Garcia as my fashion icon for officewear.

(What? She's awesome.)

We have the Goth Office Dominatrix: red plaid cami, black 3/4 sleeve cardigan, black linen pants, red Docs.

We have the Vintage Penelope: black/ivory retro graphics 40s empire waisted dress with red piping, black polka dot socks, red Docs. Oh, and the black cardigan, because it covers all the tats.

Bitchy In Pink, the black microfiber crossover faux-wrap dress with a pink cardi and the pink and white heels (ow never again, ow ow ow) and a hot pink argyle headscarf.

Approaching Professional, the black (subtle) plaid Elie Tahari suit with a black cotton v-neck over a grey cami. I have to go business-business instead of business casual for field interviews and visits to facilities.

Butch? Who's Butch, brown tissue tee under black crewneck fine-gauge sweater, black w/brown pinstripe capris, oxblood doc cap-toe boots.

(I still need decent work flats, although the Ariat boots of much lust are Right Out given the recent acquisition of an internal-combustion money pit.)

Today was the black wrap shirtdress with pink and white striped kneesocks and the red docs, which caused the guy who runs the cafe upstairs to stop dead and express out loud his regret that his kneesocks and stairwells fantasy would not come to pass.

See, these things? They don't happen when I wear the standard issue khakis and polos.


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For The Goth Punk Hippie of a Certain Age

May 2012


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