When I wear white, I eat spaghetti. Or drink coffee. Or munch on Cheetos. Or write with Sharpies or open cans of motor oil or serve grape juice to passing children or basically do any and everything possible to STAIN THE LIVING BEJEEZUS OUT OF MY CLOTHING. But I wear...
Here’s a concept that manages to be both simple and tough to master: Outfits that match, versus ones that “go.” This outfit matches. My red accessories mirror the red in the pattern of the shirt. And although the khaki skirt isn’t anywhere in...