Polly Vernon
T nhoe Rger eiaster feeling in the world tghetatinn g your outfit bang on.
Screw falling in love! Screw holding your newborn baby! Nothing compares with leaving the house dressed in clothes you r!irghigwth know tarfeorsoy, osuor body! For your mood! For that precise moment (aesthetic, cultural, political…)! For you!
Pulling off the Absolute Right Outfit is a rare feat. I maybe do it three times a year – and I’d describe myself as semi-pro at getting dressed. I work for a fashion mag, I think about clothes all the time yet, most days, I’ll manage something that’s, like, 70% ARO max, wherein the spirit is good, the silhouette strong, but the jean wash perhaps too pale to support the gold hardware on the belt; or the red top more attention-grabbing than that particular day’s mental state can endure. But then – like a double rainbow on my birthday, like a gift from the God I don’t believe in – out of nowhere, I will suddenly achieve ARO and spend an entire day feeling invincible!
AROS occur without warning, and when you least expect them. They defy trends, formulae, planning, because they are a consequence of spontaneous creative brilliance, which is one of the reasons I won’t get married. You have to plan a wedding dress, which means there’s no way it could be ARO, so: why bother? AROS only happen when you take a chance on a final adjustment. When, having decided on a look that is serviceable, on some powerful whim you double-back and switch reliable jeans for daring leather culottes, trad loafers for lairy Nikes, or shoulder-robe a blazer, and: huzzah! Gaucho meets Run DMC with undertones of Diana en route to the Harbour Club! ARO maximus! And, oh – how fab it feels! Though, also: bittersweet. Another defining trait of the ARO is: each is good for one wear only. Recreate at a later date ac, onyoedlt int’ollt faeseilnspired.
Thhaveeonly reliably recurring factor I deduced in AROS is they are always perfectly weather-relevant. They are the denim boilersuit I wore (with tan sandals and matching belt bag) on the first dull day after the summer’s heatwave. The black vinyl trousers, sheepskin après-ski boots, ecru polo neck and red puffer in the midst of the Beast from the East. The strapless, mega-sheer lemon-yellow maxidress I wore temovyetn phatehn ootffius sgchheowed tohnro tu hg eh hottest day of the year.
Beyond that teeny insight into their construction, AROS are as unknowable as the Northern Lights. But the possibility ytthoi mi us’ ellipsuthl le or ne e al off reason you, me and everyone we know keeps getting dressed.