I’ve hit a clothes loathe. You know when none of your clothes seem to like you anymore. It hasn’t been helped by constantly reading about the ’80’s fashion revival - shoulder pads and leggings? I did it first time round, I’m sure there is a rule about not revisiting.
I don’t like any of my clothes and the ones I do like don’t seem to go with anything else. Action needed to be taken. I mused for a few days, I purchased an almost fashionable top that could be construed to have a padded shoulder, in grey. I tried it on at home and liked the shape (M&S’s online clothes photography is awful in my opinion). Something wasn’t right though, I looked ill. Of course, what was I thinking, I can’t wear grey – it drains the colour from my face and a face that hasn’t had much more than a 3 hourly stretch of sleep for over a year needs all the help it can get.
I’d like to be a classic dresser. I’d like to be mistaken for being French but I’m English and us English girls can’t help but be more ‘Sex and The City’ than ‘Coco Avant Chanel’, so, I’m what I would describe as a kooky/girlie dresser. I’m certainly not one of the ‘but where would I possibly wear it’ brigade. I just wear it. Full length Hawaiian pattern shift dresses, shocking pink froufrou numbers in several sizes too big, held together with a chunky belt, Pucci patterned minis, paisley silk kaftans, I’ll wear them to the pub, to anti-natal classes, to work, to the cinema, or for a walk in the park. In short I’m a frock girl. My mantra is, if there’s only one part to it you can’t really get it wrong and it’s much quicker to get dressed. Heavens I’ve even slept in a cut off ball gown in the back of a car when I was an art student but that’s another story.
What with buying jeans recently too, usually a no-no (long body, short legs) my preference was changing. Perhaps it was after I found myself caressing the hem of a floaty pale blue chiffon number with polka dot overlay and had a flash image of myself as Grayson Perry, no disrespect, he is a great artist but one wouldn’t want to be known for dressing like him.
So I quickly removed myself from the environs of the gossamer affair and whisked up an inky blue tailored shirt with mother of pearl buttons in crisp cotton, a heavier weight cotton mid-calf length half pleated black skirt, a pair of skinny black Levi’s and the most unusual white shirt striped in gold and silver with a great ruffle running around the neck and down the front in a most appealing manner. Very odd choices for me but all for £22.50, I took the plunge without even trying anything on.
I hid the bag behind the high-chair at home and waited for The GR to go to work. The ruffle shirt was strangely pleasing and I had visions of wearing it with the full skirt my hair swept up in a tousled chignon when I realised I would probably look like Laura Ashley circa 1980 and not in a good way. I tried it with the skinny jeans, would have been super if I could get the top two buttons of the jeans fastened – not gonna happen anytime soon, so plumped for a black wool pencil skirt which worked.
The inky blue shirt is a good colour on me, I wore it today with navy shorts and espadrilles, a string of pearls wrapped around my wrist, and Erbie on hip (also in navy).
I went to take the grey top back and get a refund when I saw the same one in black, bother, but bother in a good way, so I exchanged them instead. On my way back I had a quick look in Uniqlo and picked up a dark grey tulip skirt for £14.99, I know what I said about grey, but it doesn’t count next to your legs.
I started looking at boots, and thinking what I’d need to complete my wardrobe and I keep coming back to a dark denim mini skirt and perhaps a boyfriend cardigan, the oversized long ones (in my day they were called granddad!).
When I got home I confronted my wardrobe and put away everything I didn’t think I’d wear over the Winter, dirndl skirts and bright tees and all the stuff I was bored with. Now I have a nicely pared down rail of blues and blacks, a bruising of Winter wear if you will.
Posts
