First impressions are often based on what you’re wearing, and our moods may even be reflected by what we have on. Each day is as unreliable as the next as far was what you’ll end up looking like, and why. My average fashion week goes a little something like this.
Monday
I’m either drained from staying up Sunday doing last-minute assignments, or I’m pumped to look cute because I’ve had such a grueling weekend. Today, I’m feeling perky. My 8 AM class will never, for as long as the sun rises, see what it’s like for me to be dressed. Pajamas, slippers, and hair-bun it is. But the break in-between hell-hour and my 2 PM course? You betcha I’m allocating 2 hours to getting ready. The leaves are orange so I’m going to wear a sweater; that’s simply how it goes.
Tuesday
I have a meeting today, I’m not scheduled to work, and my first class is 11:30—break out the lipstick. My application skills are like that of a 70 year old woman; the lines go past my natural lip and you suspect I have hard candy in my pocket, but from afar, I look fleeky as hell.
Wednesday
These days can go either way. It’s the middle of the week, do I continue my streak of looking fine? Or continue looking like a wad of trash washed up on the sea shore? It all depends. I don’t have any clean socks, so I have to wear my boat shoes—that’s been decided for me. I’ll go with a pair of jeans I’ve already worn twice and a collared shirt because they make my heart soar.
Bitches LOVE collared shirts (at least I do).
Thursday
I stayed up until 2AM watching The Office finale and contemplating if there really is my own Jim Halpert out there for me, so Thursday will be rough. I haven’t showered and dry shampoo is annoying me, so I wear my Oneonta ball cap. Not because I’m sporty, not because I love to rep Oneonta, but because I’m unhygienic and lazy. I’ll also wear a pajama shirt that passes for “casual.”
Sneaky.
Friday
My mood for the rest of the day goes based off how I look. Most likely, I’m tryna turn up tonight, so I’m gonna want to be on my best level of dressed. A quirky salvation-army find usually does the trick to lift my spirits and my appeal to others. I force a shower and a shave. I put some powder on my nose and some black goop on my lash and bam, a mamasita is born. Look out Friday.
Saturday
I’m either unwilling to move for obvious Friday-night reasons, or I’m anticipating my lack of Friday night to transpire on Saturday. Most likely, for a majority of the day I will look like I smoke meth or huff glue, but come night time, I’ll still probably look like that, but with pazazz.
Sunday
Sundays are almost guaranteed days of chill, and my outfit will respectfully reflect that. The pajamas I wore the night before will perform their second duty of being my day-time outfit. My hair will stay loosely coiled in a bun that rats probably dream of nesting in. My boobs will be un-inhibited. Be free babies. Be free.
Now take all of these daily scenarios, toss them in a hat, and choose randomly for the next week to come.
Welcome to college fashion.
