On weekends I can just about throw anything on and not actually care that much, if at all, about how I look because most of my time is spent running an errand or going some place where my form of dressing isn’t given much thought.
Without an agenda on weekends imposing prescriptive restrictions on what I choose to wear, I dose up on my nonchalant proportions of clothing with a deliberate un-put togetherness that’s characterized as grunge, an antidote to the dystopian of the tailored 9-5. Deconstructed outfits and eclecticism are the perfect way to combine the mundanities of clothes left behind, when all the good ones have yet to be washed. Like a criminal with good intentions, borrowing inspiration from Marc Jacobs for Perry Ellis circa 92’ grunge era allows me to break free from routine. Examples of this disconnect are the pairings of my chunky rib knit with saggy sleeves echoing the state of slumber and my lazy intentions to embracing the weekend with a flirty chiffon ending from my Reformation Naveen dressed adjoin with a vintage belt.
I sometimes feel like there’s no win-win and I’m playing devil advocate with my wardrobe choices, but without it, I’d be confused and overwhelmed with ideas that the rituals are becoming a battle that I’m losing. With that said “What to wear?” Is at the very bottom of my to do list of something that as of right now, isn’t worth checking.