Kim Kardashian is not to be trusted. Olivia Pope is not to be trusted. Country club members on tennis courts are not to be trusted.
Anyone who regularly wears all-white ensembles is very clearly a psychopath or privileged enough to have a mousy assistant who serves them red wine in sippy cups and puts down sheets when they're about to take a seat. In addition, anyone who regularly wears all-white ensembles enjoys having everyone look at them sideways when they choose to stand a metre from walls, inspect surfaces supposedly for sitting and ask for the driest dishes on the menu.
See, to live an all-white life is to continually struggle. Sure, you're super aesthetic and an Instagram wet dream but you will die inside. Your once adorably clumsy friend with a thing for cranberry juice is now your enemy. You can't enjoy outdoor excursions with your friends because you can't catch any of the jokes, preoccupied by the thought of grass stains. What is the point of being oh so crisp, so clean, so minimal when you can't even enjoy lunch with your friends because everyone thinks you're a priss for putting down ten serviettes before you sat.
Wearing all-white means you must sacrifice your life for the aesthetic, essentially doing everything for the Vine.
My mesh top is from H&M, tennis skirt Mr Price, Rubi/Cotton On flats and one sock is Reebok, the other addidas. My choker and marabou cuff are handmade by yours truly.
Anyone wear all-white ever? Why do/would you like to suffer like that?