Friday, 27 July 2012

New work clothes.

Hurray! Finally new season has landed in The Shop. This means new outfits to rock. It's such a shame that all the new colours are dark and wintery when summer has finally caught up with us. I'm so stubborn and childish that I struggle to dress myself, honestly the stress drives me insane, but I am my own worst enemy when it comes to fashion. I have all of these ideas that I think will look great and if I was going to make a look book then it would be amazing, but I'm in denial about my body shape and so I try on fifty outfits and only buy two. Thankfully there are some decent girls in work I can rely on to steer me in the right direction. I've got two new shiny outfits, one of which is so jazzy that it is worthy of a blog post. This belting electric blue shirt and floral capri pants combo. 

The second outfit is much more conservative, a very dark navy pinafore dress teamed with a long sleeved white shirt underneath. The above floral combo is so brave for little me. Perhaps it's therapy through outfits? Some kind of life change? I usually stick to boring, frumpy options as I said I choose loads of amazing items to try on and then find none of them suit me, be it colour or shape. So out of stress I end up buying boring, uninspiring comfy options. I can dress anyone, but myself. 
Can I just point out that the trousers are a size 16 but the shirt is a size 20! I have to say to all women that it doesn't matter what size it is on the label, I mean if it bothers you that much, just cut the label off. I have big bazoomas but really, size 20? Oh dear god, no. What happened to consistent sizing? This is an outrage. 
Anyway, it took me three hours with help from my very patient and extremely helpful coworkers to try on hundreds of clothes (thank you for going out and finding me so many options to try on) and I actually only bought two outfits. Now, I work five days a week, so of course this won't do. It means I have to put myself through the fitting room ordeal again. And soon. There's going to be a point when old season is taboo (socially and in the fashion retail workplace). There are only so many times you can cope with trying on outfit after outfit only to find your emotions being shot down by metaphorical army tanks. Turning round to look in the mirror to find what can only be described as me doing an impression of a sausage roll. My inner goddess is cowering in the corner, under a blanket, sobbing that the world is a dark and cruel place. As I left work with my purchase complete, I dragged my sorry self to the supermarket and bought a tub of ice cream, went home and fell asleep with nightmares of me in a comical sumo wrestling suit. 

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