I'm only stating my preference - not a moral judgement.

I get that. I'm not being pugnacious, here. I find your viewpoint interesting, because I feel so totally differently about it. Appearances are....just that. Appearances. Surface. They're a type of currency, I suppose, but I don't really take anything else away from them aside from "Likes plaid," or "Oddly hairy."

but I think you look more attractive all tarted up.

Ah, see -- this (err, not your opinion, specifically, Hec, as I don't interact with you in meatspace and don't have to actually face your evaluation on a daily basis) is why I feel such a pressure to Dress Up And Look Pretty, beyond what I would do if I were only pleasing myself.

I like me just fine in my un-tarted state, but knowing that it's the tarting up that makes me attractive to others, well, A Well-Groomed Girl Is A Pleasing Girl, it seems.

Steph, I've been thinking about this one, too. If I have a personal style of dress, then it's one that's accreted around me, rather than one I purposely chose. Eventually I stopped trying to have a style and just went with clothes that bug me the least. I'm not sure whether that's a style or not.

But you, you've got style, baby. Of which, in fact, a white t-shirt and khakis are a part.

(ETA: Except when I'm playing dress-up, which I do (very rarely) because it's lots of fun and I like the way I look in it.)

I like me just fine in my un-tarted state, but knowing that it's the tarting up that makes me attractive to others, well, A Well-Groomed Girl Is A Pleasing Girl, it seems.

Remember, I am on the outside edge of opinion in this, because I think EVERYONE, male or female, looks better with a smidge of concealer, powder, groomed eyebrows, mascara, and tinted lip balm. EVERYONE. However, I fully accept that my aesthetic standards are not everyone elses, and I try not to pressure my friends into adopting them. Just don't be too freaked out if I stare at you and make twitching movements toward my cosmetics bag.

If I have a personal style of dress, then it's one that's accreted around me, rather than one I purposely chose. Eventually I stopped trying to have a style and just went with clothes that bug me the least.

Heh. Exactly! That's Fashion du Teppy, 100%!

But you, you've got style, baby. Of which, in fact, a white t-shirt and khakis are a part.

Hmm. I shudder to think what a white t-shirt and khakis say about my inner life.

I rather enjoy being an enigma wrapped in a riddle, smothered in secret sauce. Well, seriously, I have one HELL of an inner life, and I get a real kick out of people's reactions when (if) they stick around long enough for me to give them a glimpse of it. No one ever expects me to be....well, be *me,* it seems. Never judge a Teppy by her cover.

Hmm. I shudder to think what a white t-shirt and khakis say about my inner life

You're not your fucking khakis. /Tyler Durden

I shudder to think what a white t-shirt and khakis say about my inner life.

Vanilla?

I tried wearing makeup daily after I shed 60 pounds. Eventually I decided that an extra 30 minutes of sleep did more for my looks than getting up early enough to put concealer under my eyes. I still like wearing make-up for special occasions, but to me it's like a costume: formal dinner drag, along with fun clothes and footwear. And when I play dress-up -- and wearing makeup falls into that category for me -- I like it when others are playing with me, male and female. Nothing says "Look at me, for I am Sir Hottie McHotness" like a fella who knows how to wear eyeliner.

Hmm. I shudder to think what a white t-shirt and khakis say about my inner life

You're not your fucking khakis.

Oh, *I* know that. I just wonder what Sandra Dee images I'm putting forth.

I shudder to think what a white t-shirt and khakis say about my inner life.

Vanilla?

Exactly my point. Anyone who infers that, based on the way I look, is just missing out on fudge-ripple-nut-crunch-y goodness.

I just wonder what Sandra Dee images I'm putting forth.

So you have a wonderfully Vanilla exterior with a lovely, cream-filled, porny center.

Like a Tootsie pop.