INTERN 101

Rarely do I panic about what to wear. In fact, rarely do I think about what to wear. I love my clothes and I've spent close to forever curating a wardrobe that befits my slap-dash style - a symptom of being terminally late. 

Clothes are such a handy way of communicating with the outside world - with the added bonus of pretty much zero verbal effort (I say 'pretty much' because guaranteed I will have to explain my outfit choice to someone, ahem father, at some point during the day.) 

This, I'm relieved to say, only happens occasionally but when it does, it well and truly shatters my mojo. (Side note: I'm looking into the possibilities of shatter proofing.) 

I'm currently doing an online internship and the opportunity arose for me to leave my metaphorical 'office' (i.e. my kitchen table) and visit the actual office. First came excitement, then the nerves crept in and lastly my wardrobe caved in on me. There I remained for three days, buried under sweaters and bereavement for my long lost fashion-know-how. I thought about collapsing dramatically but didn't have the time. I feigned proactivity but in reality, stood mimicking the comatose state of most teenagers on a Saturday night. 

Paralysed with mindlessness, I had too much choice and yet not enough. After a particularly enriching (code for expensive) few months I literally could not justify buying anything new. I could tell that my BFF, or should I say DC (debit card) felt abandoned but in the words of good ol' Swifty, "haters gonna hate, hate, hate, hate, hate" so it's a reasonable conclusion that savers gonna save, save… With this chiming in my ears, I did what any youth of today would do, I procrastinated. 

On the morning of the big day, I woke up, threw some stuff in a bag and zipped it up quicker than Kim K can catch a cork in a glass perched atop her ass. It was a hope for the best affair. Options are good but limitations are better - *sometimes* anyway. 

Fast forward two days and the internship was over (btw, I survived) and after much thought on a five hour train ride home, I'd decided that I was going to write a light hearted piece on what-to-wear to an internship. But to be quite honest I just couldn't do it. Just typing that made me snore, so I went back to the drawing board. 

For me, what to wear is important. Subconsciously I have always been drawn to the possibilities that clothing offers, not just aesthetically but as a means of offsetting my bumbling, accident-prone antics. I thus decided to write a behind the scenes rundown of the events leading up to my internship. So here goes. 

I decided upon wearing my Welsh blanket coat. It's a coat made from Welsh blankets if you hadn't guessed. It's a statement piece and in the words of my mother; "it makes me look tidy". However, due to the toe nipping weather at present I decided to keep warm by putting my hands (it's important to emphasise the plural here) in my pockets. A normal enough move I'm sure you'd agree. But alas, my penchant for rings was my downfall as I became ensnared in the loose threads that had come undone inside the lining of my  pockets. I was stuck in the stance of a two handled teapot. The struggle continued but eventually I freed myself. Needless to say, no one sat next to me on the train after this incident. 

Next up I decided to remember to take my vitamins. I reached into my pocket mindful this time of what awaited inside. With the painstaking dexterity of a rubix cube master as I slide my hand down the rabbit hole that is my pocket, my bangle slipped off my wrist and into the oblivion down the side of my seat. At first I thought that a ferret had taken up residence down there but on further inspection I realised that it was a thick layer of dust. One deep breath and my fingers went a-fishing. Nothing. This bracelet had made it all the way from OZ so I'd be damned if I lost it on a cross country journey! I swung my head between my legs in a last ditch attempt. Modesty a thing of the past, I spied the little blighter and nabbed it back. Little did I know I was being eagle eyed by a gaggle of older ladies. I'd never empathised more with Kevin & Perry as I did at that moment; immediately I thought, "no one understands me". 

Aaaand it doesn't end there. Amongst all of this cuffufle my body decided to have an unscheduled 'time of the month' moment. With nothing helpful in sight, the only silver lining was that I'd chosen to wear black jeans. I'd like to think this was my sixth sense kicking in, but 'fluke' might be more apt. To the outside world I was composed - inside I was a hormonal mess. Thank god for washing machines, and friends who let me hijack their washing machine! 

I also forgot to bring a change of socks… but I did watch Empire Records so all was not lost.

With all this happening pre-internship, I couldn't help but feel strangely relaxed when walking through their doors. Surely nothing else could go wrong? (Luckily this optimism worked in my favour - I did accidentally walk into the gents toilets but that was on my way out, when thankfully I was alone.) 

Ultimately what I wear doesn't stop me from inadvertently saying the wrong thing or doing any number of embarrassing things, but at least I can look good doing it. Face planting in fantastic heels (despite being the probable cause of said fall) is definitely the best case scenario. Could you say the same thing about falling in Crocs?! 

Hopefully my striped sports dress, vintage bolero and wedge booties distracted attention from my reddening cheeks. For some the sentiment 'you live and learn' rings true. For me however, 'you adapt to survive' is far more apt, as is the advice to always carry a spare pair of underwear.    

(None of the above images are my own)