Don't look directly at it..

Let me just start off by pointing out that this never ever happens and I can't believe I'm even going to talk about it but..here goes..
Today, I'm clashing navy and black. And I'm wearing sneakers.
What, did you think I'd actually give away something juicy? Never do that - you might get pounded on.
I don't really know what happened this morning - I'm pretty sure I turned on the lights, and it wasn't as if I didn't have time to change after putting this disaster on - I simply went with it, totally knew what I was doing. And now I'm freaking horrified! After learning at 12 years old to never do what I have sufficiently over-done you'd think this shit just wouldn't happen, and I'm not too sure why it did. Maybe a lack of sleep, a lack of morning shower (I'm going out tonight ergo evening shower: money-saving-student) a lack of goddamm self respect because I can hardly face the outside world.
I went shopping in my lunch hour, not that I haven't been shopping online all day anyway, and headed straight for my local vintage haunts (check out http://www.bangonstyle.blogspot.com/ if you want the top five places to go in Edinburgh). Ususally I get a little bit of acknowledgement that I actually know what to look for in a vintage store whilst I'm there but today I could practically feel the disgust coming off the girl at the counter, and the dead fox that was wrapped around her neck. I hadn't realised quite how bad it was but there I am, standing staring at a reflection of navy wide leg trousers and a black half turtle neck that doesn't even FIT!
I managed to not hyperventilate and remain on my steady course round the coats and jackets hoping nobody would notice if I stuck to the shadowy bits but, of course, people did and I got the whole "Darling, M&S is over there. You won't find what you're looking for here." Well, nobody actually said that but I could taste the horrifying betrayal to style in the air, just like a snake can taste the fact its the closest creature to the dirt...Scratch that I just felt like a fucking snake - betrayer, reject, callous, evil, not-good-in-the-mornings.
Whatever.
To gain some pride back I practically whirled round the shop looking for a designer label that would render me worthy of such an enticing place once more. One classic Burberry mac later (bargain and a half!) and an Emporio Armani basque I was accepted once more. The woman behind the counter even complemented me on my finds - but I knew this glorious moment of basking in my vintage skill would be over the minute I stepped out into the street and threw myself to the open public that had not been witness to my shopping skills.


So I did what any girl on the edge does.
I bought a pair of over-sized sunglasses.