In my current London life, wherever I go, I feel like a misfit.

It is often about the way I dress – which of course reveals much more.

Wednesday, I spent the day at my corporate job where I don’t fit. Not that I am not good at it or I don’t enjoy some aspects of it. But I consider myself a borderline impostor of the corporate world. I am known as the “fashionista” of the office because I have no corporate clothes. I don’t even know where to shop corporate clothes. I clearly can’t wear 80% of my wardrobe at work. I wish I could walk in the place with my shiny mermaid dress on, just to shake up this uptight world. Needless to say I don’t fit at more than one level. Once, my two managers were talking about arguing with their respective partner on who’s getting to pick the furniture and decorate the house in their couple. How bad would I have LOVED to interrupt this normal-sounding conversation saying: “The only time that my ex-girlfriend took the initiative to redecorate the house, she stuffed all my belongings and pictures into giant bin bags because her parents were visiting and they think I am a boy.” Just to see their face. Of course, I didn’t say anything. I just went to pee.

After work, I went from corporate land to underground land. α5 was performing for the Artcore International festival at the Hotel Elephant Gallery in south east London. It was a great event. I loved most of the exhibition pieces, especially the little birdy death creatures by Giles Walker, and the vocal digital performance. But again, I was almost the only one not dressed like everyone else (nose ring, dreadlocks, platform shoes, rainbow colours).

I left the place with a burning question in my head: why are there so many different worlds which never collide? Why do you have to wear the uniform of the people you hang out with?

And above all: where am I not a misfit?