The Office

I haven't told you anything about my workplace, all wrapped up in my Italy robbery and all.
You know what the most striking thing about it is, from a purely physical point of view?
All the cute, adorably dressed women.
Women just make more of an effort here. Than in the States, I mean. Not in Italy. They make an effort there too.
It's not that European women are better-looking, per se. Although taken as a whole, they do look better. They try harder, that's for sure. And the American expats who work here try harder too. Because everyone does. Because you have to.
One stunning woman from New York was wearing five-inch heels today with a short pencil skirt that showed off her toned, bare legs, a la Carrie Bradshaw. Her British boss wore a clingy black dress, also short, with a cute pair of ankle sandals. A Polish woman who sits near them looked fabulous in shimmery tight black trousers paired with a tight black t-shirt with a boat neckline that showed off her sleek neck bones.
Granted, all the women were young and had good bodies. But some of the women at my old newspaper were young and had great bodies too. They didn't dress like that, though.
The women at the office here were sexy, attractive, and trying to make the most of what they had. Like most of the women in this office of some 160 people. They all tend to dress like that.
It's striking.
Maybe New York is like that, I don't know, but Washington wasn't.
Thank god I noticed it the first day.
And that my new short cardy looked decent over a long t-shirt and skirt today and my big stone Italian bracelet highlighted my tan.