That moment when you’re speed walking to the train with your headphones on and practicing a talk you’re about to give because you don’t want to be late and you don’t want to sound like a moron but you’d also like people to not think you’re crazy, and a block away from the platform a nice mom taps on your shoulder and you take off your headphones and she tells you your dress has ridden up, and you look down and see it’s complexity wrapped around your waist, exposing the leopard print beneath your sheer black tights (courtesy of your giant tote bag), and you realize you’ve probably been walking this way for at least seven blocks and you don’t know what to do except adjust your dress and laugh, and so you do, and then you go rock your talk anyway. Bam.