Anyone can adjust what’s on the runway for use in their everyday wardrobe. Obviously this is perfect for your friend’s baby shower, and this is definitely what your girlfriend meant when she asked if you guys could have a date where you both dressed nice for once, but what do you wear when things turn–as they so often do–completely to shit? This column is here to help. Welcome to Runway to (Shit Just Got) Real Life. You’re welcome in advance.
What to wear to: Represent yourself in court
You never thought it would end like this. Sure, you were at the party in question on the night in question and sure, you were overheard telling several guests “It would be great if someone murdered that guy, ha ha–but really, I would use my shoe, it would be so easy and no one would ever know.” And sure, you’ve had it in for this dude since he subtweeted about you like four times in one day, but just because the man in the same stilettos (you heard me) was found dead with a heel through the eye does not mean you are guilty. In fact, you’ve been framed! Maybe. Either way you are not up for jail time right now. You also happen to be fairly broke and the court-appointed lawyer had shifty eyes, so you have decided, like many brave loons before you, to represent yourself. A flawless strategy. You have gone over your notes, practiced your Meaningful Pointing, and watched literal hours of Ally McBeal (luv u, Krakowski). You are going to hit them with all the jargon. The only thing left to plan is how you’ll be dressing your habeas corpus.
“Who, me?”
Braid your hair around your head like a milkmaid, except you are not interested in evoking a kindly Swiss lass; you are going for celestial realness. Men can do this too, the angel look is not gender-specific. You are Gabriel, you are Jegudiel, you are Lucif–nope, okay, you are Jegudiel. Consider swaddling yourself in some cherubic white fabrics–the judge will get a real kick out of it if you can get a hold of a white version of her judge’s robes. “LOL, innocent!” – the honourable judge in question, admiring your sartorial quid pro quo. If you can’t pull off all-white, and some of us cannot, go the full black widow route in sombre greys, blacks, and navy blues. Observe the, at this point, Professional Court Date Attendee Lindsay Lohan in a demure, innocent yet apologetic navy frock. Flawless. You do you, Lohan. (Although it might be time to start doing something else, tbh. Not sure ‘you’ is working out.) Dew up your face, pink up your cheeks, and look up at the jury like “?”
Power dressing
If you can’t pull off “I’m innocent!” consider “I may not be innocent but it will be problematic for you if I’m found guilty.” Peruse brass knuckle-inspired rings. Look into shoulder pads that mean business. Accessorize with a classy briefcase but mouth “there’s a gun in here” to the court stenographer. Wink conspiratorially afterwards so she can’t tell if you’re kidding. Basically, your closing statement should go something like this: “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I am a bad bitch and you will rue the day you put in me in prison. EXHIBIT A.”
Court shoes
Not the basketball kind. Doy-oy-oy, what else are these even for? It’s in the name.
Neon
Justice is blind, y’all, better make sure she sees you. Be on trend while on trial with some bright-ass neons–no jury in the world would convict Proenza Schouler’s recent dayglo delights. To sum up: acceptable courtroom colours are remorseful neutrals, or in-your-face brights. Try to avoid wearing scarlet… or carrying candlesticks and spanners in the lounge. It was almost always Miss Scarlett. The jury may not believe your defense, but if they’re blinded by your hi-lighter blouse they might be too distracted to hear the prosecution’s cogent points. I think the legal term for that is “sneaky.”
Make a case
An attaché case, that is! Carry a VERY expensive, extremely fancy looking briefcase with you into court. It doesn’t matter what’s in there, as long as you look like the kind of well-researched, prepared person who would be carrying many important documents with you at all times. If we’ve learned anything from Richard Gere in Chicago, and I think we’ve learned several things, you’ll know that a courtroom is a theatre. The right props are just as important as the right Prop[osition]s. Razzle dazzle ’em with some quilted leather and who will even remember that your fingerprints were found on the shoplifted jewellery in question?
Ultimately, a trial is just a job interview for the position of “contributing member of society,” so we all know how this works: nice blazer, “natural” but pretty make up, you work well independently but also as part of a team, etc. etc. etc. Try to look innocent, but don’t try too hard. You will never be Judge Judy.
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Monica Heisey is a writer and comedian from Toronto. She has also written for VICE, Huffington Post, and She Does the City. Follow her on Twitter @monicaheisey.
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