Another way to wear pink clothes is to layer them with non-pink clothes – preferably black, dark blue, or army green. It was with this principle in mind that I wore a baby-pink polo neck with frilly sleeves (and having some fun by suggesting to the princess that becasue I have frilly pink sleeves, I am “fairy-er” than she is.) I wore a severe dark-blue top over it with long tight sleeves and a huge v-neck. So the pinky parts were visible just at the collar and chest, and a sliver of frilly pink sleeve. I liked the effect, and I am making full use of the layering fashion, which suits low student budgets very well since it allows me to make inventive use of old clothes, and stop myself from going mad with boredom wearing the same set of trousers-dresses-shirts-blouses every day.
I may have gone a bit over the top, and today I find myself wearing a rather bewildering array of items: grey knitted dress with silvery side panels, originally bought as a going-away manteau from a fancy manteau shop in downtown Tehran. The dress is slightly below the knee, and I am wearing black and white long socks with silvery trim. So far, so good. Over the dress, I am wearing a red long-sleeved cotton top with a wide neck, with faint “termeh” pattern in light-blue and army green, – and pink. And over the top, I am wearing a short-sleeved hip-length cotton knitted cardigan in army grey-green. The multidute of mismatching collars are hidden beneath a huge dark-blue pashmina with silver trim.
A bit confusing, but I get comfort from two things: here in Halifax, I might as well be invisible for all the attention and notice I get from people; and second, the little bits of pink in the termeh design of the red top are almost invisible. I could have never worn an outfit like that in my Tehran office, as I would have run the risk of being lynched by my rather conservative, interested, and sharp-eyed colleagues.