Which, to be quite frank, are most of them.

And this is because I long for when I can finally state the phrase, “I don’t suffer fools gladly,” and have people give weight to it rather than roll their eyes and mutter to themselves, “Oh, Jesus, Daniela’s talking again.” Until then, however, I’ll dream big dreams and feel approximately zero embarrassment for not dressing my age—whatever that means—as it tends to support the one principle I usually adhere to in my style: Comfort Before All.

But apparently being in your twenties means you should go by the motto, I Just Want A Shot Of Morphine Right Now. Admittedly, I own bodycon dresses and five-inch stilettos. Can I tell you where they are in my closet? No, and honestly I’d rather not look for them, because I’m pretty sure most of it is playing host to a family of spiders. It’s only every now and then that I realize my walking abilities have been too on point for an extended period of time, and that there’s been an absence of real bruising to my internal organs. When that happens I do aim for the stilt shoes and the Chinese finger trap dresses. This delightful treat of masochism, though, is reserved for special occasions.

One may feel inclined to ask, “But, Daniela, don’t you want to feel sexy?” And the answer is: All the time. And you know what’s sexy? Pasta. Pizza. Beer. Ice cream. Cookies. Walking. Balance. Not blisters. Do you know what’s even sexier than that? Sensation in my toes. Being able to breath with my clothes on.

So it’s a safe bet you’ll find me in relaxed-legged pants, loose tees and flats, or platforms if I must—so long as I’m on an even plain. If this uniform earns me the reputation of dressing “maturely,” then so be it! Because one thing I’ve noticed about this particular trend is the added benefit of not having to divide my attention between deciding if it’s really actually that gross to walk down a New York City sidewalk barefooted, and whatever else I’m doing. A facet, perhaps, of the sagacity of the elderly: Don’t waste time on things that make you feel like death … because that sure as hell is gonna come anyway, nah mean?

Kidding.

No, but seriously, we’re all going to die some day. It’s called the Circle of Life. I hope you’ve all seen The Lion King.

Here I am trying to look fierce, and I’m now judging myself immensely for it.

J. Crew sparkle sweater and V-neck Tee. Ralph Lauren silk pants I bought from Housing Works. They’re one half of a suit I bought for $25. The blazer has three-quarter sleeves, matches the pants, and is about two sizes too big. When I wear it on solo trips out and about, I think it’s magical. When I wear it on outings with my friends, they suggest maybe I walk a few steps behind them.

Mmm-mmm, fierceness hurts so good.

Kait: “Daniela, just stand there and look natural.”

Daniela: “Ok.”

Kait: “Daniela. Seriously, you look like the most awkward thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”

Daniela: “You said natural.”

*Full Disclosure* This exchange never happened.

And that’s about it. So remember, guys:

And dang, talk about being schooled by Shademaster 2.0.