Daisy Bateman

Anatomy of a Fashion Disaster

I own a nearly shocking number of fabulous shoes. I shop with vim and purpose. I get my hair cut and colored at a fancy salon. And yet, deep in my heart, I know no matter what I do I can never be a truely stylish person, because I know that at one time I looked like this:

High waisted, acid washed, tapered jeans? Why yes. Oversized, “humorous” t-shirt that is not actually funny tucked into said jeans? Roger that. Not one, but two ridiculous necklaces, one a knit bag holding random items and the other a dead insect named Floyd encased in amber? But of course. Ugly, ill-fitted and wrinkled old-man sweater? Check. But really, can anything compete with the boy-band haircut with side- and back-fade? I didn’t think so.

This, my friends, is what I looked like in the prime of my youth. Thank God that’s over.

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