In a stroke of complete irony, I was sitting on the train today thinking that I really need to buy some new clothes for work. Despite my co-workers' claims that I dress trendy, I tend to dress like an utter slob.
For instance, today I waltzed into the office in a pair of pants that have a ripped crotch and an off-colored patch by the right ankle. Otherwise they look great: slimming, flattering, bla, bla, bla... In order to counteract the ripped crotch, I had to wear a long shirt. I opted for the 5-year old black (correction: was black - is now gray) tank top and paired the whole thing with some raised sandals that I bought in Brazil in 2001 (even worse - they look like they were purchased in Brazil in 2001). Yes, I need some new clothes. I'll do it this weekend, I decided.
Here's the ironic part: Minutes after I walked in, I received an IM from the office manager asking what time my boss and I are leaving for our meeting?! I am so fired.
Thankfully, my boss hadn't seen me yet. And even more comforting is that she doesn't get too dressed up herself. So, in an act of complete desperation, I went around to each girl in my office and begged for random pants and shoes that - oh, I don't know - they might have laying around in their offices? Fortunately, I scavenged a pair of businessy witch shoes and some too-big, but not too too-big business slacks. I'm still wearing the tank top, but I accidentally left a shirt in the office yesterday, so I slipped that over. Now, I just have to pretend like I meant to wear this 'Payless meets Filene's Basement' collage and I'll be fine.
Oh, and in extreme irony, my boss just walked out and looks stunning. And, why wouldn't she? This is a damn important meeting.