Hi, I can see your butt-crack. But I presume that is deliberate, since you have taken such an inordinate amount of care with your hair. The t-shirt you are wearing is not very long. The leopard-print thong you are wearing is, well, not very modest. And no matter how casually you sling your cross-body Topshop bag over your shoulder and sigh impatiently as you wait for your rum-and-coke at the bar, you cannot convince me that you are particularly fashionable. I may be the girl wearing a jumper with elbow-patches, but I have looked at Vogue! And I know that even the avant-garde models with their stern chins, smoky eyes, exaggerated postures, do not wear sheer leggings as trousers. So I can only conclude that before you leave the house, you check the mirror to make sure that every hair on your head is perfectly in place - you're creating the illusion of carelessness, and it's such hard work! - and then you step back and you survey yourself, making a full circle, and you think, my, what a fine butt-crack I do have! So tonight I shall do exactly what every article in Cosmopolitan has ever advised and accentuate my best features. And you find the sheerest pair of sheer leggings in your closet, and you make sure that your shirt does not ruin the view. And then you stand at the bar with one leg cocked so that we can enjoy your handiwork.
Thank you, ladies. Now excuse me while I look tactfully away.