I’ve never been the girl who pours over fashion magazines. I’m not exactly stylish, unless you consider wearing strictly pink and black clothing a style. Sure I like to look cute, but the work involved with looking my personal best stresses me out.
I’m also horrible with details. Proof?
It’s moments like this when I miss having roommates. Another woman would mock me until I changed, plus having access to clothing someone else picked out helps with the style factor. I imagine that’s what having a personal shopper feels like.
Or a gay husband.
I’m open to either at this point.