Women dress to impress other women; it's that simple. If they dress professionally, it's to appear more pro than the ladder-scaling bitch in the next cubicle. If they dress slutty, it's to be more sexy than the hoochie at the end of the bar. At the gym, mortification comes when some frumpy soccer mom has cuter Nikes.
But, for argument's sake, let's say that females occasionally have us men in mind when perusing the wardrobe. Fairly sure I fall into this category (although this whole "metrosexuality" thing's got me a bit discombobulated), allow me to give one guy's perspective on women's fashion from an evolutionary standpoint.
We don't give a shit about name brands. We don't give a flying coitus about colors, nor their ability to coordinate. We don't care if you wear black to greet the Easter Bunny and head-to-toe pastels to Thanksgiving dinner. As long as that black skirt gently hugs your womanly hips and those pastels make your fat rolls look like comfy mini-pillows for our most sensitive man-parts, you're doin' just fine because-let's face it-all we're doing is trying to picture you naked. To dress for us men is a simple game in geometry. Find the most sensual curve on your body and do everything short of drawing arrows to it. If you're blessed with a tight tummy, expose that revealing-yet-classy inch between your top and jeans so that your belly button stares us down like the Omniscient Eye of the Happy Trail to Enlightenment.
If your hips scream hey sailor!, hug those southern muffins tight. If you're shaped like a block of cheese, douse your eyes with Visene so that we can't escape the gleam of your gaze.
As far as boobs are concerned-they're nice if you got "em. But all us men really need to see is that you warrant the use of a brassier, and that the man-boobs we're sure to one day grow won't end up the largest in the relationship. Keep in mind, however, that the degree to which you expose your "girls" is inversely proportional to the degree of imagination the man you attract will possess. If you dress R-rated up top, you're likely to attract dudes or "bros" who like big-picture books. PG-13 will beckon the decently educated frat boys, and PG will attract sensual sorts who would rather lightly outline your breast with his fingertips (as opposed to violently grabbing and squeezing your ladies like a meth addict kneading dough during a good, drunk screw). If you're dressing G-rated up top, you're probably on your way to church, and us men aren't into cherry-picking the Big Man's gals.
And so there it is-a pig eye on the honey pies. Oh, except-Capri pants, low-rider jeans, and half-tops that expose fat rolls should all be punishable with a lifetime of Kmart shopping.