I was going to call this one dressed down. But, alas, denim fail prevails. The following images speak volumes re: my persistently futile attempts at dressing down. Where I'm going wrong, I don't know. Perhaps it is my own palpably clouded if not full blown fabricated definition of the phrase that throws my attempts to the very borders of incompetence. While we're on the subject of formalities, I will look to the bible of the spoken work, the dictionary, to shed some light on the issue of my own informalities. As dressed down can't be looked up, I'll take casual as its next of kin.
Casual. n. suited for everyday use; informal
Casual (according to the dictionary edition ARV published 2012) n. suited for everyday use and other improbable eventualities such as meeting the Queen; bling necklaces allowed
In defiance of a penchant for denim (not to mention a hefty collection comprised of something like 25 pairs of jeans) the Donna Ida in me refuses to shine. Donna Ida, if you're reading, where oh where did I leave my denim mojo? Let's start with the fact that you're wearing a badly drawn reproduction of the Eiffel Tower all over your chest, she might start. Let's also draw attention to that piece of bla-bla-bla-bling around your collar bone that can only have left it bruised, not to mention 'did I tell you Betty from the Bronx called? she wants her bling back.' Ok, ok, I get your point, I would reply. And take my heavy heart to the flatscreen where a lesson in denim dos can be taken from season four, episode 3. Take it away, Carrie Bradshaw.
Sunglasses by Versace but some very similar ones here by Selima Optique. Best quality jeans I've ever worn by Hudson (pricey, but good'uns last you a lifetime.) Jacket by Zara. Betty's bling by Mikey. The most perfect white shirt by Boutique by Jaeger. Jumper by Topshop. Oh, and converse, naturally.
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