Leave it to Amanda to get me wearing the strangest shit out there.
It's got to be a world record - the longest time spent getting ready clocking in at a solid forty minutes, and even then I don't think I even put it on right just yet.
So many buttons to clasp, so many straps to tighten, three different shirts tucked beneath a thick coat - the Victorian folks seriously had it hard.
Gazing in the mirror reflected a man that looked as if he got sucked into a time vortex and violently spat out into the 21st century - a drunk man at that.
"Your top hat's crooked, you know?" Behind me, propped up atop a drawer, my expert consultant continued to give her profound judgment, all the while holding back laughter on the verge of erupting. "Oh, lief big broth'r of mineth, did dress so smartly indeed… yet alas looking so stupidly. Truly, tis an utter tragedy."
"Don't screenshot this," I warned. "Oh, fair maiden from beyond thy looking glass."