Fail.

In the fashion mecca of the east coast I get a big FAIL. In my new life I have decided to choose my outfit for the next day the night before. This leaves me more time in the morning to actually do up my hair and leave the apartment in a timely manner.

When I am in my humble abode of Harlem, I do not care what I look like walking the streets. However, take the train a few (actually with where I live- a good 100) blocks downtown and I totally care.

I usually leave the apartment thinking I look pretty damn cute. For having not gone shopping in a good long while, and only recently taking in my 20 lbs of drycleaning, I am still doing OK. And then, inevitably, I get outfit trumped. Today it happened in the bathroom. One of the super nice (she would be nice so I can’t hate her) VPs was in there doing her hair and make up. And I swear, only moments before I was thinking my outfit is kind of cute. Very Anthropologie. And this even marks my first day wearing tights- so fall! And then I leave the stall and see her standing there all nonchalant in an outfit I would die for, and probably need to sell my whole current wardrobe to afford.

These situations always leave me feeling very Molly Ringwald in Pretty in Pink. They are the cool girls at school and I am the poor pathetic girl who has to resort to making up her outfits out of random scraps in her closet and the only person who pretends to like the result is my father and/or Ducky.

On another note, on my fateful trip to and from the bathroom I walked by one of our receptionist desks. She is this super sweet older and non-fashion forward lady with a bit of a limp who always tells me she likes my shoes. Thus, the last thing I pictured her listening to this morning would be Sean Paul “Temperature.” Yeah, what? Then on the way back it was “Keep Me Hanging On” 80’s classic by Kim Wilde. What is this station? Who is this person?