Yes yes oh yay, I am OCD about putting things together, from layout, fashion to salad dressing. I don’t know if you ever experience waking up in the morning 8am and found out the person who spent the night in your bed was put together in “thou shall not be named” disaster, for that split second the only thing you would want will be some tequila washed down prozac tablets.
Men has completely gone bonkers in recent years, buying leggings that possibly diminishing their sperm counts, eyeliners, straighteners and way too much hair product that sabotage their dignities into a cross between a manga character and a in-the-closet gay hairdresser.
For those who does not share the obvious psychological confidence, they blend themselves into some average schmoe… like a familiar stream of everyday polluted air you’ll probably met at some point, as though he was some plain-face-girl named Mary’s boyfriend you met few years back at Jack’s birthday party somewhere east London… he was the one who sunk into the painted wall with some sick grime that bloke called Toothy projected on after 6 hours of sake-bomb…
The fun is to dress like you didn’t spend 2 hours matching your outfit, simply impeccable taste and good instinct… So darling if you fail to impress, fail better next time… or simply “ GIVE UP!”
