There are times in life when one must pretend to be not oneself, but someone quite different in the name of the forward movement or metaphorical ladder climbing of one's person. For example, my face tends to communicate to all those within a 15-20 metre physical radius of me that I am not fit to be a member of the tax-paying community, a graduate of any level of post-elementary education, or a human being in general. SEEEEEE.
So how do we render "psychopath" synonymous with "prospective future employee of the month?"
1) Leather on leather on leather (bitches)
2) All your hair...on top of your head...in a knot...right now
3) A bright top that says "Look, I'm fun and enthusiastic" after which the leather interjects with "But not too fun, because ya know, she's wearing no less than 2 dead cows."
4) Jewellery, preferably that which swings a little to the conservative right, back to the risky left and then settles contentedly in the middle; the sartorial equivalent of a Mitt x Obama make-out sesh.
And alas, you are guaranteed to either get the job or at the very least, a sincerely sympathetic letter of dismissal to add to your pity pile which is probably just roundabout way of corporate America saying to you, "Girl, where were your shoulder pads?"
Well, now you know.
|Jacket: Only NY | Top: Vintage | Leather Pants: H&M | Shoes: Timo Weiland for Tsubo | Earrings: Rachel Rachel Roy|