On a recent shopping jaunt, I purchased an item that I suspect might change my life forever: this brown (faux) leather skirt (on hella sale, like a true basic bargain baller). It’s everything I never dreamed a skirt could be- sophisticated enough to say, “Why yes, I am a fully functioning adult type person. Let’s discuss our 401ks over a sensible cup of earl grey” yet edgy enough to say, “But, I’m going to drink that earl grey out of a mug with brass knuckles attached to it because I am one badass mofo”. And because it’s nature’s favorite neutral, brown, it goes with everything!
…except 90% of my wardrobe. You see, I had purchased this little beauty with visions of outfits dancing in my head and every intention of mixing black and brown with reckless abandon. But when I got home and tried putting those little sugarplums together, I discovered they were actually moldy prunes. This sucker is too dark to pair comfortably with black, too brown to pass as black, and simultaneously too warm and too cool in tone to go well with anything bright. So, this exposed a rather unexpected chink in my armoire’s armor- this clown don’t wear brown. That’s right, as I’m sure you’ve all noticed by now (and I somehow managed to forget), the vast majority of my wardrobe is black, white (and all the dreamy shades of gray in between), or obnoxiously bright. It’s not that I don’t like or can’t wear brown (it does grow naturally out of my head after all), it’s just that I’ve always been drawn towards more graphic, pop-y color schemes.
But you know what, guys? I think I’m ready. I think it’s time to welcome black’s hippie cousin, brown, into my life. I know this means accepting brown’s freeloading friends tan, camel, and oatmeal too and I am prepared to greet them with open arms. It’s gonna be great (or it could be a cage match to the death… you can never be too sure about these things).