Did I mention that as a part of my internship with Vera Wang this summer, I am required to wear all black all the time? I'm talking black on black on black on black on black. I even sent them a frantic email verifying whether or not this included shoes and accessories. Surely, there was no way they'd put such tyrannical requirements on even my feet! I got an email back confirming in big, bold, black letters that shoes count too. I whimpered in fear.
All black? Me? Have you seen my closet? Here, I'll just show you.
There's like one black thing in there. And it's covered in polka dots. It's like Liberace, Springtime and a color wheel had an orgy and then manifested themselves on a bunch of floral printed dresses! I do black like once a quarter when I'm being ironic. Or strategically moody to emotionally manipulate my friends. Or when I'm menstruating. But I digress.
This whole situation is consuming me and I've been on the hunt for work appropriate, Julia approved, Vera worthy, and budget friendly black clothes for weeks now. Online shopping is my drug and I won't stop til I get enough. I am constantly making people listen to me talk about my need for more black blouses, but how hard it is to find them (seriously so much harder than you'd think). Or shoes. Have you looked for comfortable, closed-toed, stylish, black shoes lately? Because I have. And they actually don't exist. Oh and PS- not sure if you remember me complaining for 10 weeks about this last year, but in case you were unaware, New York City in the summer is a literal sweat lodge/ toaster oven of a town that leaves you on a street corner or in an underground subways station in a puddle of rage, begging for God to turn the AC back on. This isn't an overreaction or an exaggeration. This is real. And I'll be the one wearing all black.
ANYwho... it will be amazing because this also happens to be my dream internship and an experience of a lifetime, but I just keep staring at my clothes, all the blues and reds and pinks and loud prints and apologizing quietly like a mother who is about to abandon her children because they don't fit on the back of her new boyfriend's motorcycle and into her new life. Or, maybe even worse, I feel like Justin the day he told Joey, Lance, JC and Chris that he was flying solo. Can you just imagine the look in their eyes when he showed up, probably wearing all black, to tell them that he was saying Bye, Bye, Bye? Ugh. It kills me every time.