I’ve never placed a lot of thought into how men approached my style in fashion. It’s not that I didn’t respect what opinions they might have. I guess I just didn’t assume that they had any thoughts on feminine fashion. For instance, I talked with my boyfriend about these American movies. In them they take this normal-looking lady sporting dishevelled garments and provide her with this huge makeover that’s supposed to remodel her as an individual… and there’s always a scene when and then she comes down the steps wearing plenty of makeup and a sweet dress.
So, naturally, I’ve asked him what he thought on this trope. And he said, “What she’s sporting before the makeover seems a lot nicer for me.”
So I asked him why does he feel that “Zoey Deschanel before” is more attractive than her “after.” And he told me about the one occasion we met. It was at a concert and I didn’t remember to bring a jacket. And luckily for us, he was wearing a big bulky varsity sweatshirt. It was about five sizes too big, so I could bulk up and keep warm… and since as he said “he wanted to keep an eye on it”, he kept me company and we chatted all night. He still thinks I look lovely in old distressed jeans and a baggy hoodie.
I’m gonna be honest, I’d look ridiculous in a short, tight dress and high heels. But at least according to my boyfriend, I’m a cute, feminine girl when I’m wearing big, baggy clothes.
Which is baffling for my petite friend Isabella who’s ever the fashionista. She has strived to be glam and wear tight dresses (seriously, Bella, your you could knock a guy’s eye out with your puppies) for her whole life. I suppose all girls have their own individual style. Me? I want to look pretty – but there are definitely days when I’m glad to look like big girl.