Comfort Zone.

I enjoy a good romp in the role of fashion forward female just as much as the next aspiring Anna del Russo.

Shocking unsuspecting passersby, asking for unjust judgement from all those you meet, and just generally ignoring every clothing-related code of conduct laid forth by those in undeserving power is ... addicting.

It's also a bit tiring.

The exhilaration that comes from dressing like a dufus 24/7 (I sleep in sartorial nerd chic) takes some resilience.

It didn't used to. Not at all. In fact, for that brief stint of time that I just ignored public perception and existed in own my brilliant little bubble - I don't believe I considered the reactions of others for a moment.

Forgoing forethought and dressing for myself is effortless. It's only when mankind comes into question that it becomes questionable.

Instead of giving up, though, I've decided to just train those around me.

I have this little strategy. Dress exceptionally strange for first encounters - and the awkwardness can only go down from there.
If done properly - this get-up then actually proves quite boring.

Neutral tones, no exposed skin, fall-appropriate footwear...