Sartorially speaking, sometimes I haven't a clue. Born wearing a pair of battered black and white Converse sneakers, I've always leaned towards the casual side of things. Hoodies. Faded jeans. Logo T-shirts. It's not that I find it impossible to dress up for an occasion, more that I just don't like to. I think it's nice when people make the effort, it's just that they do it so flipping effortlessly, and I've 26 years to practice and still can't get it right.
Sure, I'm capable of picking out a dress and pair of heels if an event requires it, but I'll do it with the grim set mouth of someone who's just been given a life sentence. I'll buy from the first half-way decent shop I come across, beat off the floor assistants like they're zombies from Resident Evil and rush about with a 'get in and get out!' mentality.
And it won't be any better when I'm actually wearing the get-up. I don't suddenly transform into Paris Hilton. Rather I spend the whole night feeling terribly exposed, irrationally irritated that my friends and colleagues are paying me more attention than usual because they're just so shocked to see a bare leg that's attached to me.
Perhaps this is why I chose a career in media. Surely you can get away with a bit of casual when dealing with cool brands and journos, right? Sort of. My uniform of jeans, sneakers and a hoodie is often interpreted as being intentionally cool (I work in online, and everyone knows online people are fashionably weird), and I am still young enough to get away with it. 90% of the time this works well enough, until the odd occasion where I'm required to meet someone who expects something a little more formal. Then it's sartorial chaos once again as I awkwardly straddle a wasteland between casual-cool and smart professional and end up looking as appropriate as a five year old at a Slipknot concert. It's just not me.
In the meantime I'm already looking ahead to the office Christmas party, and getting warning palpitations. I really need a hypnotherapist to take a look at me...