I had an appointment with my bank advisor today. I feel so middle class and suburban saying that. It was mainly to discuss my lack of finances and their lack of progress and the lack of options for them. I had a vague notion in the days leading up that it was not appropriate to wear tracksuit bottoms and a hoody into this meeting. I’m not sure why, call it a hunch. Because I have taken to this attire in the final days of The Research Project, I felt like a little girl playing dress up. I was using my ‘grown up’ clothes as a cloak of subterfuge,¬†concealing my crumbling savings account and my lack of financial management. I wore my black Zara bubble shift dress that looks like a black sack unless wearing heels. So I wore my Nine West block heel court shoes, with a little patent toe, resembling the Mafia shiny peepsters. I had some grey wool tights and my dramatic thick-knit, grey American Retro cardigan. It was sombre and serious but implied taste and style. Enough to throw them off the scent I think. They extended my overdraft…

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