I am not typically an adventurous dresser. Since starting grad school my uniform has been skirts, cardigans, and black flats in an attempt to mature my wardrobe out of eight years of black t-shirts and ratty jeans. So when I bought a jumper with “Beetle juice genie pants” this spring, it was a big deal for me.
A little background: my sister lives in Tucson, AZ, where caramel-brown babes wear neon rompers (the jumper’s more flirtatious cousin) all year round. She has been the patient target of no less than two rants about my dislike of rompers and their inability to ever cover someone’s ass and chest at the same time. You may get one, but never both. I railed against the foolishness of wearing clothes that are sewn together as both uncomfortable and impractical.
But when I saw MY jumper hanging on a rack at a Tulsa Ross, I decided to try it on despite my doubts about the practicality of the garment or fears about what sort of optical illusion I might be inflicting on myself by encasing my lower half in an almost dizzying print. It turned out to be as comfortable as my favorite type of clothing, the maxi dress, and had pockets, which made it irresistible.
Since then, while wearing my jumper, my confidence has grown to fill the billowy pant legs. My partner, who is much more stylish than me, praised it as my “most fashion forward choice ever” and I get appreciative comments and nods from the effortlessly cool servers at my favorite restaurant. Instead of always trying to make myself appear as little as possible, I genuinely enjoy seeming a little wider, because I just feel so cool.
–K. a doctoral student and a lady.