Wardrobe FAIL!

Having a sense of style may be in breach of the Lesbian Code of Conduct, but ladies, some rules need to be smashed to itty bitty teeny tiny bits!! Also, ladies of Melbourne, while I must admit I do think you look hot, butch chic is not the only look there is. Just sayin'.

I have it on good authority that I have a pretty good sense of style. Aside from the "oohs" and "ahhs" I get from my colleagues, I get compliments from strangers on a pretty regular basis, and, my all time favourite, when I was doing that summer intensive in San Francisco one of the women came up to me and said, "Just so you know, what we talk about behind your back is great you dress." TRUE STORY! It's great to have the reassurance because the thing with fashion is, you take risks and sometimes they pay off, and sometimes they fail in oh so very epic ways.

Also, it's nice to hear that people think I put together a pretty good outfit considering that the majority of the time I do conform to the Lesbian Code of Conduct and just wear jeans, runners, and a plain (though colourful) shirt, have kinda greasy hair, and am not wearing any make-up. What can I say? I'm a woman who loves extremes.

Lately I've been thinking about my sense of style and what guides me in my wardrobe choices. And, inspired by my brother's epic music blogging, though down scaling it to a manageable project because I'm not insane, I have decided to share with you, dear readers, my Top Ten Style Tips! Over the coming weeks I will write a blog post about each of my Top Ten Style Tips, and then maybe you too can have people say lovely things about you behind your back on your next trip to San Francisco, or wherever. So that is COMING SOON!

It maybe would have started today, except, today I decided to get all dolled up only to have a wardrobe malfunction that required emergency measures to be taken!

Now, I love wearing skirts. Love love love skirts! But, I think the stats are something like 70% of the time I wear a skirt I end up with it hiked up around my ass as I'm walking down the street. In fact, I have a rule now that if I am going to wear a skirt, I must wear nice underwear because probably I'm going to be showing them off to everyone with eyes (sneak peak: there'll be more on that in my Top Ten Style Tips!) This happens to me enough that I have stopped being particularly embarrassed about it.

Last year I made an especially good show of myself. It was spring and I was enjoying the warming weather. I was wearing one of my favourite skirts, that has a particularly appealing movement to it. From my experience as an undergrad I had learned that when wearing a skirt and carrying a heavy bag, care needs to be taken so that the skirt does not ride up. All day I had taken care to avoid this. But the day was over, I was on my way home, feeling great about life, and feeling confident that I looked great. I had my big 'ol headphones on and was lost in my own little world. I got off the tram and started on my kilometer trek home, stopping at the milk bar for some soy milk on my way. I had a spring in my step and was tossing my long, golden mane of hair in the wind. Some guy across the street was yelling at me, but whatevs, I had my music on and I didn't care what he had to say. It wasn't until I was about to turn into my driveway when I felt the breeze on my bum that I realized what the guy across the street had been yelling at me: "Oi, love, pull yer skirt down!" Whether it had rode up when I got off the tram or when I stopped at the milk bar, I'll never know.

Today I decided I was going to break out a skirt and show some skin, though hopefully not my entire backside. After much deliberation I decided to go with my grey dress and blue-green jumper with these gorgeous grey art deco tights I had not yet worn. I accessorized with my latest awesome hat - a 1930's inspired Beret the same colour as my jumper, a long string of faux pearls, and my "OMG they're reduced by how much?" John Fluvogs. I looked decidedly awesome. The only trouble was, the art deco tights seemed to be some sort of low rise tights that were barely staying up.

Despite the tingling of my wardrobe malfunction spidy senses, I decided that my outfit was too amazing to change and I that I would just make due with the droopy tights. Well, that would have been all fine and dandy if they had actually been drooping instead of rolling down my legs! By the time I crossed the street to the bus stop I knew I was in trouble. But, not wanting to miss my bus, I soldiered on.

I was taking my computer in to get repaired, so I took the bus to Sydney Rd and then walked a couple of blocks down to the repair place. Only, by this time my tights were rolling dangerously low and I was worried they'd soon be around my knees. So I clutched my sides and practically ran into the Barkly Square toilets where I was able to take off the offending tights. Fortunately, I was able to pick something up cheap at KMart to get me through the rest of the day. My outfit is decidedly less awesome without the art deco tights, but, all in all it's still pretty good. Now, if only I could start listening to these warning bells when they go off!