It’s been at least 7 years since I paid more than $15 for a haircut. While I appreciate what a great hairstylist can do, I’ve never found one myself. I go to Cost Cutters.
I have never seen a single Chanel piece that I’ve liked. Ever.
Aside from yellow and orange, I have tall boots in pretty much every color of the rainbow. Including pink.
At some point, laziness overtook me and I stopped hand-washing my tights. I throw them in a pillowcase, tie it shut, and put the whole mess in the machine with the rest of my laundry. Seems to work just fine.
Mixing patterns still scares me.
I can usually make myself do it, but I get super nervous browsing in Jil Sander, Max Mara, and the like. I always feel like I’m gonna set off some sort of “non-wealthy poseur” alarm.
I have matching PJ sets for winter, but none for summer. I wear a mismatched hodgepodge of old graphic tees with HM‘s hand-me-down boxers and it drives me BJONKERS. I long to match. (Though, clearly, not enough to invest in summer PJ sets.)
Planning outfits relaxes me. And once I get sucked into it, I can plan for several hours at a stretch.
I play with my hair. Incessantly.
I can pack a carry-on for a 10-day trip to Iceland, but whenever we take a road trip I feel perfectly free to pack the largest suitcase we own. Even if it’s a 2-day trip to visit my parents.
Nobody at my office would care AT ALL, but I just can’t bring myself to wear anything denim on a non-Friday work day.
Sometimes HM and I accidentally dress matchy for the gym – black hoodies and blue shirts, or black pants and brown shirts. I always make sure one of us changes before we leave the house.
I love polyester with a passion.
Image courtesy Travel Salem.