A culture of clashy-clashy

I have a problem with the mismatched clashy-clashy look, and it is this. Leaving aside the tiny minority of women who are born with eccentric-bohemian glamour and can pull on a Fair Isle cardigan with a taffeta cocktail gown layered over a vintage tour T-shirt without a thought, creating mismatched outfits that charm rather than scream is bloody hard work. Instead of standing in front of your wardrobe making a series of logical wardrobe decisions - I feel like wearing a jumper, but I want to look smart so I'll wear it with this pleated skirt, now I need a pair of plain wool tights, etc - you have to tear up the rule book and start again, with only your imagination and a working knowledge of the wardrobe of Chloë Sevigny as a guide.

I don't feel that creative at 7am, and I can't see the point of so much effort if it doesn't even make you look hot. If I'm going to go to all the trouble of dressing up, I want to end up looking nice, not just interesting. So on the whole, I'll take an extra five minutes in bed and a safe navy-and-black outfit over a complicated fashion mash-up ensemble that will only be met with puzzlement at breakfast, even if it garners approving nods from fashion students.

Nonetheless, clashy-clashy is where it's at, so I shall attempt to be game. Which brings us to the next challenge: how to look as though you dressed like this on purpose, and not because your house burned down leaving you with a random selection of clothes that were on the washing line. You can try keeping the shape neat, while the colours and patterns run wild. You can experiment with textures, including posh fabrics, to make the point that you are a grown-up, rather than a gap-year waster. Or, you can just dress in the dark, and pass it off as Balenciaga.