As aforementioned (like in several posts away, I've found myself trapped in the repetition of looking basic chic (not to, once again, be confused basic bitch) with my white t-shirt meets denim jeans look, which thereafter eventually got me to cogitate several (and somewhat different) ideas to wear for the entire week. And as sartorially enthused I was to have imparted suggestions to you guys via the use of a horrendously photoshopped (hey, it isn't that bad, right?) Monday to Sunday collages, I thought to myself: 'Why not actually try them out personally?' Coincidentally, today happened to be a Saturday, and henceforth I dressed myself in a cropped pullover and midi skirt.
Lol, jk.
But I did adduce that Saturdays are 'Meet with my (in your case, it's your) Mr Big days so I'll have to dress like a damsel', and consequentially I'd decided to heed the advice (I sometimes seek advice with my past self, like no joke) and rekindle with my former love: Print A meets Print B.
I slipped into my cerulean brocade shirt and my vermilion brocade trousers. Both of them were a perfect match. Both brocade, both in dissimilar print. I bought my shirt on the sale rack at Zara men's department, which unintentionally was something I've desired but was the one that got away and eventually he got back, so I got him. The trousers was a random splurge from Bimba & Lola because I was so infatuated with the print I couldn't help myself but to draw closer to the trousers, tried them on twice and eventually the terminal was the cashier even though I couldn't actually fit in it (apparently their smallest size was twice my size).
As I glide my trousers up my calves, thighs and then ass, I couldn't help but wonder: Was I reliving my former self? Then what has happened to me? Why did I forsake my former love? Was it because I, eventually grew up and phased out of my adolescent and adventurous (albeit more audacious) self at only the age of twenty? But I don't quite concede into the aforementioned idea, since if I actually did, would I still be obsessed with sneakers? Then was it because of conformity and uniformity, that I've chose to synonymously blend in with the crowd unnoticed? Don't think so..
So what is it? A few of my friends remarked: "You're just getting lazy." and/or "Hey, basic chic is the way!", but one actually caught me off-hand.
I slipped into my cerulean brocade shirt and my vermilion brocade trousers. Both of them were a perfect match. Both brocade, both in dissimilar print. I bought my shirt on the sale rack at Zara men's department, which unintentionally was something I've desired but was the one that got away and eventually he got back, so I got him. The trousers was a random splurge from Bimba & Lola because I was so infatuated with the print I couldn't help myself but to draw closer to the trousers, tried them on twice and eventually the terminal was the cashier even though I couldn't actually fit in it (apparently their smallest size was twice my size).
As I glide my trousers up my calves, thighs and then ass, I couldn't help but wonder: Was I reliving my former self? Then what has happened to me? Why did I forsake my former love? Was it because I, eventually grew up and phased out of my adolescent and adventurous (albeit more audacious) self at only the age of twenty? But I don't quite concede into the aforementioned idea, since if I actually did, would I still be obsessed with sneakers? Then was it because of conformity and uniformity, that I've chose to synonymously blend in with the crowd unnoticed? Don't think so..
So what is it? A few of my friends remarked: "You're just getting lazy." and/or "Hey, basic chic is the way!", but one actually caught me off-hand.
"You're pleasing others in your appearance, and it's not the same as conforming with the crowd, you're just keen to make the people around you feel happier", he said without a pause.
I wasn't keen, that was quite apparent, but what he said, was rather right. I was that guy who cared too much that in the midst of mothering people's emotions and considerations, I've lost touch to myself. And in the process of doing so, looking all basic (chic) to achieve satisfactory in every revolving individual, I had to remind myself that the little Carrie Bradshaw, is always, and has always been in me. I buttoned up my shirt and smiled.
P/S: But then again, I think it's partly the weather too. I mean, wouldn't sweat ruin the brocade?
(Zara Men's shirt, Bimba & Lola trousers, PS1 clutch from Proenza Schouler)
Image credits Imran