I used to hate white button-ups.
1. One time I worked at the Pick n' Save deli.
It is quite possibly the worst thing that has ever happened to me.
During this time (1 week), I was required to wear a white blouse while skewering chickens and man-handling mayonnaise and just generally wanting to die. In an attempt to redeem myself, I bought a white blouse from Simply Vera Vera Wang for Kohl's.
I did not redeem myself.
had my mom quit for me quit and swore off white blouses forever until my next soul-sucking job.
2. One time I worked in a cubicle.
I very vividly remember thinking that I would kill myself if my life turned out that way.
I have since worked in multiple cubicles, and I'm still here.
Granted, I gave up the "office attire" schtick shortly after resolving said suicide. So.. #stylesaveslives
3. One time I worked for a catering company.
We had to button our shirts up very high and tuck them into our mid-rise black slacks very tight and forfeit all of our sexuality in favor of obscurity and mundaneness.
It was not awesome at all.
Also, as a girl who broke her hip while walking in flats on generally flat ground, carrying glass objects on a precariously-balanced glass tray while weaving in between incredibly
drunk rich people was, as one might call it, a big no-no.
Moral of the 3 stories:
White blouses do not remind me of the happiest of things.
They do, however, impart a certain, undeniable, air of masculinity to whatever I happen to be wearing, which - in this girl's opinion and at this girl's life stage - may more than make up for its many former offenses.
|my fav white blouses via Shopbop|
Here we have one such example, in which I take a dress that is, in truth, very un-me, and sprinkle it with a dash of middle-aged man to make it well...me.
Maybe one day I'll be all like I want to embrace my femininity and not dress like an amalgamation of my grandfather and the characters from Suits and shunt the white shirt for everything that it is-
but, in the words of Aragorn,
today is not that day.