Quite unsurprisingly, with my skinny 12 year old appearance, I’ve always gravitated towards sweatshirts and anything baggy. The strict high school uniform regime and fear of reprimand still lingers every time I button a shirt up to my Adam’s apple. So imagine my slight sense of dread when I discover the party dress code involves a fancy 1920s situation. Quite oblivious to the proper etiquette of dressing up, I figured the white sneakers were the perfect remedy to pre-empting questions of whether I was dressing up for a wedding or a weekend night out in the rowdiest part of Sydney. But alas, my instincts ultimately placed my feet in a pair of new derbies, which I stupidly spilled too much alcohol on [slow audience clap]. Let’s be thankful stories from that night are beyond the scope of this site.
No oversharing will be done today.