I have what is probably the unsolveable wardrobe crisis on my hands.
Tomorrow I have to interview people at both the Melbourne Fire Brigade AND an Orthodox Jewish organisation.
What to wear?
There really is nothing in my wardrobe that straddles the sultry-booberella-Bridget Jones-esque-firepole slithering look with the high-necked-ankle concealing-chanukkah-celebrating-serious journalist ensemble.
All my tops are tight.
My one business shirt is too spinsterly for the MFB
My short-sleeved good shirt stretches tight across the bazumbas
I do not own what the magazines call a ‘cardie’.
All my clothes are ugly generally.
The only thing I can come up with is some sort of James Bondish wetsuit that unzips to reveal a completely different outfit while I mutter something about slipping into a dry martini. An outfit of course that exists only in my mind.