Sure, I would try to look all casual and chic. But we all know this chair would go flying out from under my ass the instant I applied any weight to it. In the process, the other two chairs behind it would fall like dominoes, clattering loudly as they tumbled end-over-end on the tile floor.
While that was happening, the cup and saucer in my right hand would fly across the marble bar and shatter into 26 pieces as coffee splattered all over the front of these gleaming white pants.
Then there's the shirt. Good Lord, the shirt. It's missing the top half, and yet it still somehow has armpits, which is a problem because the material is ground zero for pit stains. Also the style is incompatible with big saggy titties since you can't wear a bra with it. So that's a dealbreaker right there.
Also, I can guarantee that the space between my belly button and vajayjay would not be a flat expanse of perfectly pressed cloth. Finally, if it was hot enough to wear nothing but a silk ruffle around my boobs and a major period risk on my ass, there's no way my hair would be down on my neck.
Basically, what I'm trying to say is thiis: the difference between the outfit as featured on the model in this Ann Taylor ad and the real life manifestation of this outfit on me is big. Bigger than the violation of gravity and several other laws of physics that would have to occur for a woman to sit like this in the first place.