I never learned the rule for why it's not "an uniform"

The night before my flight, my mom convinced me that I wouldn't need half the clothes I was taking. At that moment, I forgot that my mom could have been biffles (Parents, you might need to urban dictionary this one.) with Mother Teresa on the basis of minimalism alone. My mother thrives on this concept. I'd like to think her lifestyle is rubbing off on me, plus or minus a box of clothes that is laying on a closet shelf in Mexico right now. So I have concocted an outfit recipe in order to look presentable, be comfortable, and not have to think about what not to wear. And also so that I won't be tempted to wear my sweatshirt and sweatpants to class errrrday, which I was told by my host mom to be kind of an awkward thing to do here in Stylish Spain. A shirt, a sweater, tights, and a skirt--this would be my uniform, as you've probably noticed from previous pictures. The elastic skirts are theee best; so comfortable, especially with pockets. I wonder if Gymboree carries XXXXL sizes.

And I'm not really a shoes girl, but the other day when I was out with Las Tapas, I saw/tried on a pair of shoes that were just lovely. I know it's kind of a blurry picture, which might intensify its masculine-ness, but I thought they were whimsical and just right to go on adventures in. And so amazingly comfy. I don't think I'd find a pair of shoes like this one in the USA. But they did not have my size. Having elven feet prompts me to be all too familiar with this ending.