5 Excuses for Why I was Fashionably Late


Men think we do it on purpose. Like it’s all just an act or some form of retaliation for leaving the seat up last night. Well, it isn’t. The struggle is real.

Being raised by a father who says be ready at 7:45 but really means 7:43, I’ve been the last one to the door a time or two. After all these years, I still can’t manage to dodge the problems that occur when getting ready, and I’m sure I’m not the only one.

Women truly wish getting ready was all smooth sailing, but truth be told—it can be a bumpy ride.

Felt like a boss when I picked it out, and now I feel like a scrub.

Blame it on the night if you may, but there have been countless times when the outfit I laid out for the next morning seems like something I could never pull off. After questioning my sanity (along with what then spirals into rethinking all other life choices), I’m forced to think on my toes to find something I do feel comfortable wearing. Here I am again left in a time crunch when I really thought I was ready to roll.

*Note that this is also when I find out everything else I own has vanished from my closet into the dirty laundry.


I was gonna wear a skirt until I noticed I missed a giant patch of hair on my leg when shaving.

There’s really no way out of this one. Hopping back in the shower at this point is completely out of the question because A) you don’t have time and B) who wants to do that anyway? At this point, you have no choice but to switch into a pair of pants. Sound easy, right? WRONG. The top you’re wearing doesn’t work with pants and changing to a dress still leaves you with the same leg-hair dilemma. Looks like it’s back to the drawing board.

I look like I just rolled through a pile of deodorant.

Deodorant marks are the absolute worst. No matter how careful you are or how much you hold your breath in hopes these stubborn stains will not occur, they always manage to sneak their way onto your shirt. Rubbing deodorant marks off is not exactly something you factored into the time you thought it’d take to get ready, and for some reason, they won’t go away no matter how hard you scrub.

You finally get the stain off and finally get a chance to look at yourself in the mirror, but there’s just one small problem—you don’t even like the way the shirt looks on you anymore and decide to change. Here we go again.


It’s luke warm outside, and I don’t have a jacket for that.

The next task is the hunt for a weather appropriate jacket to top it all off. You’re almost out the door. You’re so close… and then it all falls apart. We’ve all faced those days when it’s not hot but not cold, it might snow, but you don’t know, no rain but slight chance of rain. However, it’s only when getting ready that we notice we keep forgetting to buy a jacket for this type of weather. Do they even exist? I would say I’ll let you know if I ever find one, but let’s be honest—I’m going to forget to look.


I only own one of each shoe.

Time’s almost up. You have one minute left to get ready. All that’s left to do is to put on your shoes and sprint to the finish line. You’ve got this. As you’re rummaging through your shoe pile, army crawling your way under your bed, you start to break a sweat.

Finding the first shoe of the pair is always the easiest. How do they even get separated? You always wear them and take them off together, but now they’re worlds apart lost forever in the dark, black void of no return. After tossing every other shoe aside (which might actually be how they all end up separated), you’ve found the needle in the haystack.

Fully dressed—and slightly stressed—you feel pretty accomplished. You strut your stuff down the hall making your way to the door. There you meet everyone else ready to go and judging by that stern look on your dad’s face clearly way before you. You came in last place yet again but still feel you finished with some serious style points. Since you’re not a sore loser, you recall the wise words of Queen Clarisse Renaldi, who once said, “A queen is never late.  Everyone else is simply early.”


Katy Huff, '17

Writer of words, baker of food, lover of music, buyer of clothes.