So ingenue, so Audrey Hepburn/Leslie Caron/Mary Tyler Moore all rolled into one very neat, well-organized, nicely pleated and plaided and round-toe flatted package. Of course the yellow handbag speaks to a certain moral frailty, a crack in the otherwise impervious veneer of wholesomeness.
Naturally, I'm cheering for the semi-slutty bag.
Which is why this is the second in my didactic series on how not to look like a ho. It's meant as a self-help blog, but as much as I can identify and appreciate this sartorial rectitude in others, I can't seem to make this happen where the rubber meets the road, and tellingly, I'm talking about clothes there. E.g., I was also wearing a plaid wool skirt on the other side of the camera but it was Fife Extreme, like something Mel Gibson wore with full frontal greasy pecs and a leather armband. At least I had a coat on. I'm pretty sure. I accessorized with brown men's dress socks and my desert-boots-do-dallas (try to wrap your head and eyeballs around desert boots tarted up on 'roided out 4" rubber platforms, then have a snort of Jager and a Slim Jim and you're almost there). I think it's a 12-step program, so i've got some time.