Most of the stories I do that require me to wear/try/watch stuff end up with me going, "This was the worst idea I have ever had." But this time, when I decided it would be *fun* to pick out a week's worth of outfits intoxicated—which involved drinking a whole bottle of pinot alone even though I am not a Real Housewife, then stumbling around my apartment tossing random clothes
into near a bag, then doing a solo photo shoot wearing those clothes the very next morning—I can say with absolute certainty that it was the absolute worst. THE WORST.
My hopes for Drunk Chelsea were mostly that she would *break through* and conjure up a Magical Mystery Outfit, but nah—she went for the comfy, shiny pieces that, at most, reflect Regular Chelsea's long-suppressed affinity for sequins.
She did, however, find it in her to shower and take a vitamin before she passed out, so at least I can now show the internet that I am a semi-responsible young adult. Who then went on to wear semi-responsible outfits to the office for a whole week.
Also, the number one reason I am never drinking to excess again (aside from the hurtling-through-space-even-though-I'm-sitting feeling): It doesn't even help you dress better, as you shall soon see.
Hello, it's me, so hungover that I had to use one of my arms to hold my head up long enough to take a picture. This is because of the aforementioned guzzled pinot. Then I threw up. Which is how, the next day, I ended up in a too-big crochet dress called the "Oaxacan," which reminds me of cheese and tacos, which I am sure Drunk Chelsea would have liked to have had. Not that I am ever drinking again.
Eighty-one percent of the credit for this look goes to Marie Claire senior editor Samantha Leal, without whom I never would have retrieved the paillettes and tulle planted in my subconscious.
Boohoo sequin dress, $52, boohoo.com; Boohoo pearl and rhinestone tulle skirt, $44, boohoo.com; Le Specs cat-eye sunglasses, $69, nordstrom.com; Katy Perry for Claire's Left Shark phone case, $12.50, claires.com; Jil Sander shoes, unknown fur stole.
You could do that scissor kick pinch thing on your iPhone screen to zoom in on my eyes, which you will see are filled with panic and tears from trying not to vomit again from the smell of two types of wine mingling in an Oompa Loompa-size glass. (The discerning will notice that it's a promotional Trainwreck wine glass, which is about right.)
I have worn this sober, if that tells you anything.
Sister Jane shirt, $79, sisterjane.com; Negative Underwear bra, $85, negativeunderwear.com; H&M jeans; & Other Stories shoes; Kendra Scott hand bracelet, $250, kendrascott.com; Absolut Elyx Pineapple, $120, reservebar.com.
Not even mad about the FUPA because at least I got to sit.
You know, even though Drunk Chelsea did not meet my expectations of being freer with color and silhouette, much less assuming her ultimate fashion form and tapping into a higher plane of style, it doesn't matter because she did the right thing: whatever TF she wanted.
Minus the sloppiness and inability to function, we could all stand to be more like me with 25.4 ounces of vino sloshing around in my stomach. Wear a shiny body-con dress as a skirt. Wear the same outfit you wore earlier in the week/last night while holding onto the walls for dear life. Wear an embroidered tent that could fit you and Chris Hemsworth at the same time. Wear what makes you happy. Just wear the thing.
That, friends, is something I can drink to. But I won't because...you know.
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