Tucked.

My name is Lauren Wilson, I am 26 years old and I am a tucker. Before I let you in on what exactly that means I’d like to reveal to you a little bit about my fashion history. Let’s just say I missed the fashion boat. It set sail many, many moons ago and unfortunately I was left on the dock. Sadly, there was a time when I thought my odd fashion decisions were innovative and sure to become the next big thing. In elementary school I became the proud owner of a hand me down suede vest from Joy’s old piano instructor. I wore that thing every day for months straight. I slept in it. When I looked in the mirror with my vest on and my sweats tucked into my sneakers I knew in my heart I could be Donna Martin’s understudy. No problem. In middle school, I wore the uniform every day even after they cancelled the policy due to the lack of student participation. I must have liked how I looked in my oversized khaki shorts with my white polo tucked in. That was during my skateboarding phase too. Of course I had Vans. Of course. Why were they so big? So bulky? So dirty?  On my first day of high school I wore my sister’s long & lean white jeans and some brightly colored Hawaiian button down. Trust me, I am neither long nor lean and I think another vest was involved. In fact, I know it was. Years passed and an obscene amount of boy jeans were bought and hemmed.  And some how, in my delusions of fashion grandeur, I allowed the infamous white shirt to sneak into my wardrobe. At first I just wore them to bed, then under sweatshirts and jackets. Within days it seems they became part of my work out uniform and matinee attire. And no matter how many times I donated them to the Goodwill or tore them up for a costume, a new set would magically appear in my drawer. I’d use the excuse: “Oh, I’ll just wear them to relax, you know like a short-sleeve smoking jacket, yeah like that” and then somebody would catch me at the Olive Garden eating a lot of breadsticks and pasta with my tucked in white-top making an awkward “You got me!” face. In my ideal world Stacey London would pop out of some door and surprise me with thousands of dollars and advice for what not to wear. Or at least usher me onto the next fashion boat with a mai tai in hand. In the mean time let us analyze the picture above. I’ve got my Martha Washington up-do and what appears to be an adult bib attached to my neck is actually a misshaped, unfortunate halter-top. Let’s not even talk about the toddler pattern navy portion. Yes, I am a white-top tucker. Yes, I have one on now.