My junior year in high school was the year I really began to experiment with style. I was a little obsessive and I racked up a lot of tardies because I'd spend too long in the morning getting dress, pairing outfits together and taking them off. I had made a rule for myself to not wear the same thing more than once, it was a challenge to explore all the facets of my personal style. All of that went out the window the week I came down with mono. I know, gross. TMI, but it happened--and not even from a passionate make out sesh. I got it from sharing a Starbucks with my best friend who'd gotten it from her boyfriend but never really became sick. I felt like death, I didn't care what I threw on. Towards the end of my whole ordeal, I went to school in jeans, a flannel, and a pair of Chuck Taylors. I showed up late, as usual, only this time not because I was picking out the right accessories, I was just lethargic and gross. When I made it first period and slipped into my desk, at the front of the class, some kid from across the room asked who I was. I was taken aback--we'd sat in the same room for a whole semester, we went to school together for three years. He quickly realized his mistake. "Oh, sorry. You usually dress all wild. I didn't recognize you in denim". And, here I am seven years later, sick and in denim. I've succumbed to the flu, but I'm not letting it put a damper on my style. The amount of little denim dresses I have are too numerous to even quantify. If ever there was a staple to add to your wardrobe, it's a denim dress. . . and maybe a good leather jacket.
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