When I began ninth grade, my wardrobe was sad. I was still in the mommy-buys-all-my-clothes stage in a bad way. My mother has good taste, it's just that I didn't have any (taste, that is.) I was chubby. Didn't wear makeup (... I don't know how I survived.)
When I began tenth grade, my wardrobe was much improved. I wore makeup, and had a general idea of what was cute. This would improve as the year went on. However, my fashion show-abilities were hindered by a strict dress code... even though I was known throughout the school as the girl who got away with breaking dress code. That's the benefit of being a smart and well-behaved student: the teachers don't mind what you wear.
When I began eleventh grade, I had decent and improved taste but community college is not a place you go to strut your stuff. Nobody cares what you wear, and so there I did not care what I wore. This poor, sad Gabrielle was dressing in rather hideous, bulky clothes. Some even had holes in them.
I am not so poor as to be unable to afford good clothes. I just didn't care what I wore and was in a comatose-state of depression for the semester.
So now, as I re-enter my eleventh grade year into a school of 2000 students (2000!!!), into a nonrestrictive dress code with some fabulous finds from NY&C holiday sales, I intend on looking good. I am out of my faux-Bohemian stage although I still hate polos. Call me a fanatic of What Not to Wear, but... I like looking good.
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