What the hell does casually nice attire mean? Casually nice. Is it a dress? Maybe. Slacks? No, that goes under business-wear/professional attire. Jeans? Hippie… wear… attire? Tank tops? You’re not going to the beach. Put on a blouse you transient. Casual means I can wear flip flops, right? Depends. Of course it does. But, the nice part means I should wear heels instead? Not necessarily. Ugh, I’m in a pickle. Los Angeles has a very different way of how everyone shows up to any event. Seen a hairbrush lately? Is that woman wearing a bonnet? Basically, no one freaking dresses up unless you’re attending the Oscars. And that’s the diamond rocket ship mamma jamma, with a tiara on your head, kind-of-evening wear. Other than that, its flip flops, ripped jean shorts and no bra. Whores. That’s how we dress out here, yup. Like whores.
Maybe I’m from the old school, or just Ohio, but I like to dress up just to leave the house. I don’t think sporting some wedges and a skirt to Walmart is a gutsy move. It’s called taking a little time to care about how you present yourself to the world. At Walmart? Um, probably a bad example, but you know where I’m going with this. Although, paying less attention to detail may lighten my stalker load. Well… possibly not, now that I think about it, because I’ve been -as I’m sure every girl has- been followed around retail stores and restaurants in sweat pants. Is there a tracking device in these pajama bottoms? If I’m going to be home in my lycra, I will choose to do so indoors. With no witnesses. This isn’t to say I won’t leave the house unless I’m in full facial war paint. It’s just that, taking a little pride in one’s appearance wouldn’t hurt. I’ve seen women who spend an hour in the bathroom, only to emerge looking worse than when they woke up. All I know, is that when I’ve been told casual/nice attire for anything and shown up in jeans and flops… I was the only one. And I looked like a hobo. And when I’ve shown up to a spot with the same description for the “what to wear,” I wore heels and a dress. I was the only one. Rogue snob. Blah. Whatever, I don’t take chances anymore. Total wardrobe risk taker. I would much rather be overdressed than look like I just traipsed out from under the Los Angeles River bridge. Hobo Chic! Unite!