think it can be said that am born to be ousted in this lifetime to be an outfit misfit. wardrobe problems first happened a couple of weeks back, and somehow just became the subsequent pattern of norm there after at every possible occurrence. not funny.
saturday was me playing santa claus lugging a gigantuan assed duffel bag of shoes and clothes around. was not the first time and really doubt it would be the last, just that it gets pretty taxing on the shoulders and back as the bag has a tendancy to increase in dimension due to the crazy demands. five pairs of bottoms, couple of which were old loved baggy jeans, and three pairs of shoes, non inclusive of the jeans and shoes that was wearing, totally made my day, not. this is considering that the whole team decided not to use any of the shoes in the end because they were competitor brands and there would be a branding problem. poking needles into voodoo dolls with the team's hair strands, nail clippings or epidermal layers in them became the most tempting notion of the day.
my changeabout with the outfit during the last assignment, last minute once again, was another "wheee" incident. this time it was two bottoms, five tops and two pairs of shoes in the "magical doraemon" bag. thank god there was a bag size downgrade this time around, because seriously, any further upgrades will kill my aging and getting more brittle by the day crooked spine.
not to mention the constant change of dresses couple weeks back in the wardrobe unit or at the shoot. those few minutes slipping in and out of sewn together bits of satin, silk or chiffon probably had me in more dresses than can be accounted for in my whole lifetime put together, and yes, even counting in the baptismal baby outfit as well in my pint sized stages. talk about major skin crawl.
the conclusion from the outfit fiascos that have happened to date??? for one, it allows me to totally comprehend why stylists lug around baggage trunks. outfit chaos is really just a suitcase solution away, only if it is provided and even exists to begin with. two, to probably seriously consider the thought of carrying all that "necessary" junk around in a trolley suitcase. three, to pray for a bloody miracle when it comes to fitting sessions so that future headsplitting migraines can somehow be downgraded to a dull bad throb at most.