Oh, Fabiola. When you try to look normal, sometimes it’s even weirder than when you just follow your gut to WTFtown. This is all Placid Housewife of Yore, mixed perhaps with a vibe of Polyester Stewardess…
… and then her feet are all, “Get on the floor, peasant, so I can step on your fingers and lash you with a thousand Twizzlers.” Which might work as a nice contrast, if the rest of this khaki outfit were not so oppressive. I’d start with a new hem. That skirt reminds me of every itchy, unflattering uniform I ever had to wear in my formative years. Like, I’m about to break out in hives for fear that someone’s going to show up and tell me to run laps before we pick teams for volleyball.
How would you fix what’s broken? Or do you think this is whole and perfect?
