5 things that always happen when you wear white
5 things that always happen when you wear white
There’s something about being clad in cream that makes one feel positively… angelic. Even if the fabric is sheer enough that the cleft between your butt-cheeks is clearly visible to the naked eye, still you waft about like some heavenly being. Still, there are some downsides to the white stuff, all of which are likely to combine and descend the very day you decide to be your own great white hope.
There’s something about being clad in cream that makes one feel positively… angelic. Even if the fabric is sheer enough that the cleft between your butt-cheeks is clearly visible to the naked eye, still you waft about like some heavenly being. Still, there are some downsides to the white stuff, all of which are likely to combine and descend the very day you decide to be your own great white hope.
You spill stuff
It doesn’t matter if you ordinarily have the co-ordination and dexterity of a 10-ball juggler; the minute you’ve donned your £80 Cos shirt dress and stepped outside, you’re suddenly a magnet for newspaper ink and ketchup and those fingertip smudges of oil that no detergent can remove. And, once stained, a white top is ruined forever. You’re soiled. You’re wronged. You’re demarcated as one unworthy of the hue, and it is back to black for you.
You wear the wrong undergarments
All womankind has a collective secret: they have one favourite bra, which they wear 87% of the time, and a variety of other inferior brasseries that only get unwillingly worn when old faithful has developed a smell. And although this one bra has seen us through hell and high water, it’s also (probably) black. It’s a statistical thing. And, statistically, you will be wearing that black bra the day you break out the white linen shirt, and then all of your angelic impact gets completely overridden by your visible, sooty mammaries.
You hug someone
On the face of it, not a tribulation. But even your loveliest female friend, with the best demeanour, who doesn’t hug too long, and who doesn’t smell too violently of coconuts, is like to rest her cheek, just for a minute, on your flawless shoulder. And then when, one hour and two white wines (to match) later, you head to the bathroom, the only thing you can see is the smudged orange shape of the left-hand side of her face, imprinted on your once-white arm. Tragic.
You wear the wrong deodorant
It’s cruel, really. The one product designed to keep you crisp and clinical is also the one responsible for those yellowed semi-circles in your bleached pits. According to the internet (font of all knowledge), a spray of vodka under each arm will both lighten the marks and eclipse the scent of your desperation sweat. But, at that point, it’s probably best deployed directly down your throat. Nothing makes you less mindful of stains than alcohol.