My basic everyday uniform is a black skater skirt. I wore it almost every day in high school and every day my first year of college; it’s become my trademark. It’s so rare for me to deviate from this that I wore a pair of jeans one time in NY and my roommate walked in the door, stopped short, stared at my legs and said, “You’re wearing pants.”

I don’t have anything against pants. Hell, I wish I did wear them. I admire people who can pull off jeans enormously, but for some reason I can’t seem to bring myself to wear them. As of this past January, I no longer own a pair at all.

The only variation I do allow is the addition of opaque black tights in the winter. The downside of this ensemble—a classic, I insist, as I bunch my hem in my fists to keep my skirt from blowing up in the freezing wind—is that it all comes to a stop at the narrow of my waist, thus crushing my internal organs flat against the hard ridge of my ribs and it hurts.

I’ve always had an obsession with the Victorian age of corsets and gowns. And I mean always. When I was two years old I wore only dresses for an entire year straight, throwing a fit whenever my mum tried (and failed) to wrangle me into leggings. So I tell myself the rib crushing is just what I’d be experiencing if I really were the Victorian socialite I fantasize of being. So suck it up/in, Meggie, it’s a part of life.

I subscribe to a bazillion fashion magazines and pretend I know what I’m talking about when I talk about clothes. There was an interview with Rihanna from some ancient issue of Vogue or Glamour (I Googled it, it’s from 2009) with a quote I have never been able to forget, even though I can’t tell you what I had for lunch yesterday: “Nothing I wear is comfortable besides my underwear.” For some reason I apply this to my own philosophy about style. As 2016 progresses I’m trying to edge away from it—I’m embracing my previously secreted love of Parisian schoolboy/yacht bartender style—but it’s a hard habit to kick. Especially when you can’t really afford a wardrobe makeover and you own six (update: now seven) identical plain black skirts.

We’ll see what winter 2k16 brings in terms of style. As for now, at least all the organ crushing is improving my posture.

xx,
Meg