This is the story of why I will never cut my hair short again.

When I was about 12 or 13, a girl in my homeroom class came to school with a pixie cut. This was a revelation to me. Most of my friends kept their hair long, as did I. The ones who didn’t sported these bouncy, girly bobs, the shortest of which fell to earring-length. But no one had attempted that super-cropped, wash-and-wear Winona Ryder hair until that one brave girl.

I went home that day and declared I wanted the same haircut. My mom took me to her salon, where I told her hairstylist to chop it all off, please. He handed me some magazines, and I pointed out the pixie cuts he could use as a guide. Then his scissors went to work, and I lost myself in a stack of the latest celebrity gossip.

An hour or so later, my new ‘do was ready—and it was bad. What I had failed to realize was that my classmate’s hair was straight and thin, while mine was curly and full. The result of my little experiment was not the ode to Winona Ryder I’d been expecting. Frankly, I looked like Jose Rizal minus the pomade.

I could feel the beginnings of a sob welling up in me, so I ran to the bathroom to see if my hair would improve if I wet it. It didn’t. In the waiting area, my brother clapped his palm over his mouth to stifle his laughter. My inner voice howled, “What have you do-o-o-o-o-one!”

Did you ever hear about The Uniform Project? Back in 2009, a woman named Sheena Matheiken decided to wear the same LBD every single day for a year, documenting her outfits on her website. She launched the project as a fundraiser for a charity close to her heart, as well as a personal challenge to be less consumeristic. But what really got people hooked was how she managed to transform the dress on a daily basis, using handmade, vintage, and donated pieces to mix and match.

This struck me just the other day as I was having lunch with a friend. Unbeknownst to her, it was the third time that week that I had worn the same dress (a simple, sleeveless black thing). The first time was to dinner with my high school BFF; the second, to catch the new Spiderman movie with my folks. Same outfit, different crowd—it doesn’t count, right?

Disclaimer: this is probably one of those things you can write off with a sigh and an eye roll as a “fashion girl problem.” I won’t deny it--in the big scheme of things, it’s pretty much meaningless.

Nevertheless, I’m guessing many of you like-minded ladies can relate to what I’m about to say, especially since, in our world, fashion is numero uno in self-expression.

I am not the kind of girl who looks good in the morning. My hair is mental, my skin is all puffy and splotchy, and it takes about ten minutes for my eyelids to pry themselves apart. On particularly early days, I can almost swear that I’m cross-eyed. I keep my mouth pressed tight in a chapped, disgruntled line, and I shuffle along like one of the walking dead. The only one who can squeeze a response from this zombiefied version of myself is our family’s fat little poodle--she’s just too fat to resist!

Needless to say, in no way, shape, or form am I a morning person. Mornings are rough on me, and it really, really shows.

Later on, when I’ve eaten breakfast, brushed, bathed, and dolled myelf up, I look better. I feel better, too.

But some days, it’s not so easy. I think we all have unavoidable times when the day seems stacked against you. It might start with something tiny and insignificant, but no matter how much you try to tamp it down, it blows itself up and destroys your whole day. It’s usually a combination of different things—maybe you have your period, you snagged your best silk shirt, you’re feeling a little chunky around the middle, and then something, just something you can’t quite put your finger on, is niggling at you, making you feel dreadful.

So men are from Mars and women are from Venus? Possibly. But if there’s one thing about the male sex that I’m totally attuned to, it’s their fashion.

Since my schooldays, I’ve been siphoning clothes from my brother’s closet (both with and without his consent). The shirts have always been my primary targets—these crisp, pressed things which exude ball-buster attitude with the sleeves rolled up. I love how they look with leather leggings and heels, knotted over a tight dress, or worn tunic-style at the beach. I love how they look on boys too—but, hey, that’s a given!

I’ve always had a soft spot for menswear as womenswear. The older I get, the more it makes sense! Men’s clothes are simple, comfortable, and effortless—and, as in women’s fashion, the central pieces never go out of style. Just think of the past icons of androgyny: Marlene Dietrich, Katharine Hepburn, Diane Keaton, and the like. They favored buttondowns, trousers, tailored jackets, and leather shoes—all of which are vital to both men’s and women’s wardrobes today.

June always makes me think of resumes, interviews, and first days at a new job. Call me crazy, but take away the smell of rain and my nose picks up the indelible scent of bond paper and 1x1 ID photos.

I guess it’s muscle memory. Just think back to your last year at college: most of us would take our final exams in February, graduate in March, and from April to May, if you were lucky, you’d immerse yourself in a long, leisurely summer vacation.

Then you look away for a second, and it’s June. Those days of waking up past noon and guzzling cheap booze at a friend’s house and whisking off to the coast whenever you felt like it come to a screeching halt.

Now, you get a job.

Here’s the bright side: unless you’re studying to be a doctor or a lawyer, you don’t have to go back to school. School’s out for good, as far as you’re concerned.

It’s the flipside you have to worry about. Welcome to the labor force, where your days start at 8:00 AM, your cubicle is your castle, and your chances of experiencing another real summer are about the same as you seeing a unicorn in the flesh.