My sisters and I have a different sense of style. My sense of style is a mixture, like a recipe for perfection. Bryanna’s sense of style is a mixture as well, like a recipe for comfort. And Brittany, her sense of style is clueless.
Ten minutes. Ten minutes to create the recipe for comfort. Ten minutes to create a look that is lazy, to create a look that is comfortable. A look that she is soft and sleepy in. Her style is like a story, shows how she was feeling getting dressed.

Fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes to create the perfect recipe, to create a friendly look. Fifteen minutes to create a look that obeys the rules of fashion. A look that I am comfortable and confident in. My style is like a cover to a book, hints at what is inside.

Twenty minutes. Twenty minutes to create clothes of confusion. Twenty minutes to sit and stare and be as confused as deer in the headlights. A look that she is unsure and uncomfortable in. Her style is like a confused kid in math class, it doesn’t make sense.