You could do something classy and rich-looking, like Abby, above, who is positively made of vanilla cashmere. And accessorized (!) with a belt (!) that matches (!). Her skin is perfect, her hair is neat, her coat is grade A creamy, her last meal is not visible on her clothes or face. She works at home, one assumes, doing socially redeeming work at which she is very capable. In a word, she looks successful.
And then there is this.
A poster child for the holes in the mental health network, this calamity was already in progress at 8 am, though the public was largely spared. Those are neoprene midsection girders, fully functional, so that at any given time, the perpetrator could hurl herself into cold water with almost no immediate damage to the parts covered. Her nod to professionalism, more like a spasm than a nod, is the man's button-down shirt and corset stilettos. Different professions, but professionalism nonetheless. I've lowered the curtain of decency over the bad parts (so you can just imagine) but I will say, her eyebags were neatly folded. One can almost smell the acrid smoke from burned bridges.
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