When I was a kid, my mom had an entire drawer in her dresser devoted to slips. She had black slips and white slips; nude slips and lace-trimmed slips; maxis and minis; full-body and below-the-belt only. My best friend Julia and I loved nothing more than to wear these slips on our heads and pretend we were either a) nuns (true story) or b) teenagers with long, flowing locks (again, not lying).

Today I own a single slip. It’s short and nude with no lace or any other adornments. I have a few dresses and skirts that require it; pieces I like enough to justify the extra step required to hunt down this slip and then line up the seams (when you’re OCD this is essential), and then swelter under the added layer all day.

This skirt isn’t one of them.

It’s actually got it’s own built-in slip-liner, but as you can see from the photo, it doesn’t work. 

I have two similar black skirts, of course, neither of which requires its own accessory and both of which I prefer to this one.

I guess you know where this is going.