The Boyfriend

So the banshee went one fury too far and suddenly I could never spend another night in that place where she lived, which just happened to be the place where I lived too. So I spent the next week in my bestie's bedroom, hunting for houses and stealing his clothes. I guess I've been dabbling in the giant shirt/jumper + hypothetical skirt look for a while now, but by the time I left (with a bottle of his cologne, a Westwood Man jumper and new banshee-free accommodation to boot) I had to admit to being a newly-converted, fully-subscribing practitioner of the 'Boyfriend' look. The moment of truth? I opened my wardrobe. Skirts, dresses, things I'd been missing all week, but "I have nothing to WEAR," I moaned, and ran to the nearest op-shop to find a giant mens' business shirt.

(Seriously, this guy (the bestie) should open a business or something. A B&B-cum-Tupperware-Party kind of thing, where you go stay at his house with minimal clothing and unlimited access to his wardrobe. He'd make a killing.)

Anyway, so there I was in this op-shop, avoiding the womens' section like small boys avoid girl germs, and damn was it good. Racks upon racks devoted to all possible permutations of shirts + trousers: short-sleeved/legged, long-sleeved/legged, in-between-sleeved/legged, summer-sleeved/legged, winter-sleeved/legged, overalls, singlets, suits, finito. So easy. So simple. None of this short-medium-long-dress/skirt/shorts/slacks/trousers/jeans-button-up-button-sideways-zip-down-zip-up-high-neck-low-neck-turtle-neck-jackets-coats-cardigans-teacosies-too-baggy-too-tight-too-floral-too-bright-everything's-perfect-but-for-THIS. Nuh-uh. It's all too big and it all don't fit and I love it.

I liked to think I was being a touch ironic at first, given the prevalence of the 'Boyfriend' in marketing campaigns of late, but it's so easy to be all superior and think you're mocking a 'look', isn't it. I mean, in the absence of a boyfriend, it's probably the look that's mocking me.