Every time I wear a blazer to work, my co-worker suspects me of abandoning ship.
“Do you have an interview?”
No, but I like this look Christina Aguilera was sporting on “The Voice” recently: a crisp white shirt with a black blazer; simple, but elegant with a rock star edge. I cobbled together a couple of similar pieces, rolled up my cuffs and strutted to work, despite making one glaring oversight: I am not Christina Aguilera. I do not have her blond mane or her painted face or her curvy figure. Most notably, I do not have her swollen breasts. You can thank me later for sparing you a close-up.