Alex, who I’m sure thinks he’s funny, told me to wear this:

To which my response was, “Oh hell no.”

But then I try to picture it on my actual body frame, trimmed up and with a much better shirt than what she’s got going on under there, maybe curl my hair, cuff the hem and Oxford it out? Maybe. Petal trim socks with ribbons, though. Adorable. Add some femininity to that hideous thing. Jesus. Then a cool coat or blazer — perfect.

… Er — the point:

“Blending in.”

Living in San Francisco, how could you not feel like every day is an excuse to wear something crazy and fun? The city culture here is so lenient with style — we can basically get away with anything. But while most outfits certainly have the capacity to work almost anywhere, key pieces sometimes speak volumes about a person’s character. Isn’t that weird? Some might say, “unfair”? While others might think, “logical”, “appropriate”, etc?

Measurement is just a product of comparison.
Unless someone makes you sign a dress code form, I think you’re fine wearing whatever-the-f*ck you want. But uh, y’know. Keep it within reason, folks. This isn’t the Circus.