Anyone can adjust what’s on the runway for use in their everyday wardrobe. Obviously this is an ideal get-up in which to meet your spouse’s parents, and this is just a fun, flirty look for spring, 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: the worst hangover you’ve ever had
Man, last night was so crazy. You and all the work guys–Doobs, CrayDog, The Beast, Greg–living life and taking shots, like that fun song by that fuuuun band! God, you were really on top of the world. And on top of the tables, dancing. You’re wild! Those guys are crazy. So wild and crazy and good lord JESUS why did you think that was a good idea, you are not 19 anymore, get it together. Now it is morning; the harsh light of 10 a.m. feels like Wildfire hitting your skin, and you are contemplating softly peeing the bed to avoid standing up. You don’t know who you snapchatted last night but their username is BoneJuice69, and it’s possible you’re missing a shoe. Plus you have brunch in half an hour. Don’t worry boo, you got this.
Grandmother space priestess
The overall look you are going for is “elderly shaman aboard the Battlestar Galactica.” This morning, we are all Elosha. Elosha also dresses like a well to-do grandmother, so start brunching in Rosedale if you’re lacking inspiration. Bright colours during a hangover can be as jarring as bright lights (or loud noises or any movement), so stick with the monochrome trend your friends at Marc Jacobs, Roland Mouret, and Gucci have been pimping for Spring/Summer ’13. Also, what do old ladies love more than comfy shoes? Their grandkids! Wait, don’t wear their grandkids on your feet to brunch. Scale it back a notch and put on some comfy shoes, you loon. Pop on those hardcore Nikes that seem to be everywhere right now or eschew laces altogether with the slip-on ease of some humble Toms.
Nothing tight and ESPECIALLY no tights
Sorry war, divorce, and 2 Broke Girl$, putting on a pair of tights after a night out is the actual worst thing in the world. As an addendum to the above diagram I feel I should say something: I would not normally suggest a drop crotch, okay, I am not a monster, but in this instance I am going to bestow upon you possibly the only fashion secret I know: harem pants are just sweatpants that look like you care. They are therefore the PERFECT hangover pant, because you get all the benefits of walking around in what is basically a cotton-jersey adult diaper (comfort, disguised bloat, insane, blissful comfort), and none of the “I’ve given up on my whole life and everything in it” vibe that comes with sweatpants in public. If you had wanted to wear regular-crotch pants, maybe you should have called it a night between the fourth and fifth round and before your party-killing rendition of Evanescence’s “Wake Me Up Inside.” It was not even a karaoke bar. No one knows where you got that microphone.
Statement pieces
Because you can’t form coherent statements of your own, let your necklace say it for you: “I tried.” Since we’re going for “wise old medicine woman” here, anything that looks like it might give you the ability to cast spells or predict the future is ideal. We’re talking talismans, people. We’re talking animal imagery or tribal themes. Get your good juju flowing and then trap it in a tiny bottle and put it around your neck.
Deal with your face
Maybe you were smoking some cigarettes last night, or maybe you stopped off for a solo Shame Mac on your stumble home, but either way your mouth tastes like a bear peed in it and your teeth are wearing tiny chinchilla jackets (very chic). Brush your teeth and wash your hands and maybe swipe on some lipstick for good measure. Basically, try to neutralize any odours and clean up what you can. Don’t try to take all of last night’s mascara off, just make it kind of smokey and pretend you’re the only person in living history to actually go for that smokey eye look magazines are just constantly trying to teach us all how to do. Shove some dry shampoo in that hair and then top knot like your life depends on it. Finally…
Sunglasses, no duh
Just try to cover as much of your face as possible with some truly wack sunglasses. It’s Toronto on a Sunday, you’re going to run into someone you know, possibly someone who does or used to teach or employ you. Limit your exposure.
You’re suffering enough for everyone, don’t inflict your pain on others by making them look at some scraggly mess in Ugg boots and leggings. Let’s go, priestesses of yesterday’s Jager: smudge your doorway with sage, throw on a few magical finger-gems and get out there to cast a spell over your brunch server. Wingardium Levi-mimosas. Am I right? (I am.)
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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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