Sloppy Joes

I'm far from the reigning fashion maven.

Heck, I usually throw on whatever's lying on top of the clothes heap - meaning anything recent - and then leave it to sheer pure luck that the clothes actually match. Bad gay man, I know! Sure I know the branded stuff but I'm usually far too lazy ( and too pressed for time ) to pose in the mirror for hours before deciding. Hence I do commit the occasional sartorial faux pas - especially when I'm rushing out the door without pausing by the hallway mirror to check out my reflection!

And it's usually far too dark out ( that early in the morning! ) for me to notice that my socks don't match as well :) Thank God for leather half-boots.

But I still try my best - despite the fact that I look like a troll in most ensembles - to at least look presentable.


The fashion police - always on the lookout!
Obviously not all of us think the same. Especially doctors. Seriously, forget about the pretty people in blue scrubs over at Seattle Grace. Pure commercialism.

Honestly, doctors have got to be the sloppiest joes around - outside of work that is. One even had the audacity to crow about it at work today and had me gaping in astonishment.

Spin-dried Sally : Nah, when you see me outside at the malls, I'm usually in my worst tee, shorts and some slippers. Just like every other amah going to the morning market.
Paul : Uh. How lovely. How egalitarian.
Spin-dried Sally : I've even had patients come up to me and call me by name.
Paul : With you dressed up to the nines? Did they run screaming from the scene of the crime?
Spin-dried Sally : What crime?
Paul : The crime against fashion.

Brazenly and boldly, Spin-dried Sally proclaimed to the world that she stalked the town in her rattiest shorts and her crappiest tee. Think fraying threads, sloppy multi-coloured food blobs and unsightly holes. Curiously it seems almost a point of pride for her to strut unabashedly about the streets in her absolute Sunday worst.

And like these girls who erroneously believe that sweat au naturale is the equivalent of a quick slap of blusher on their pallid cheeks, absolutely no make-up for Sally.

Wonder what she does with her clothing allowance, honestly.

Much to the delight of some, the introduction of casual fridays in workplaces has certainly revolutionized our dress codes - but I doubt running around in kitchen rags can be de rigueur even in these informal bourgeouis days. Being casual is perfectly alright but there has to be a line drawn somewhere to avoid sheer carelessness. There's comfort - and then there's slovenly. Look, I'm not expecting anyone to sashay through the local night market in a glittering ballgown and stiletto heels - but between strict black tie and frayed denim shorts, I'm sure we can all strike a happy compromise.

And we won't talk about our embarassing fashion misdemeanours in public.