14 September 2014

Freshers wishlist

URBAN OUTFITTERS mug, camera and flask, TOPSHOP top, socks,  skirt and nail polish, BENEFIT make-up, NIKE shoes, ASOS notebook, clutch, sunglasses, necklace, earrings and ring, MARC JACOBS watch, SUNDAY SOMEWHERE backpack. (scroll over to link straight to products)

Obviously being a broke-ass student I can't afford all the semi-designer stuff on this wishlist but let's just say that the British high-street will be feeling my freshers freak-out shopping when I get back on the 18th. In exactly a week I'm off to Bristol to start University. I'm about as prepared as a blind squirrel for winter (?!) with some towels, sheets and a bucket of Chai Tea Latte mix under my belt. What am I even supposed to pack? How do I cram my bod with enough vitamins to avoid Freshers Flu? Where is that skirt that makes my legs look longer than they actually are? Is it okay to bring eight pairs of trainers? WHAT IS HAPPENING.

12 September 2014

In the Navy

H&M TREND dress, jacket (similar) and bag, SHELLY'S LONDON boots* (here)

With #LFW starting today it seemed only fitting to dig back into the London archives for this post shot a couple weeks ago- obviously I won't be attending any shows since I'm still knee high in America and will be for the next six days. A little FOMO is inevitable (thanks, Instagram) but to be brutally honest I'm having the best time over here.
I shot these on one of those August days whereby it feels like Antarctica in the morning and by mid-afternoon you're so hot you feel like extra-spicy Doritos salsa. Ain't nobody got time for that but this trench is a total life saver- warm enough but not too warm. Paired with an almost Gatsby-esque drop waist dress I felt ready to swish swish all over town.

09 September 2014

Instagram vs Personal style

via thelocals.dk

It took me three weeks, a pair of £120 shoes and a long hard chat with myself to realise that I didn’t, despite their sartorial credo, like mules. I just didn’t. They looked weird on my feet and their name reminded me of the infertile love children of two animals I’m not overtly fond of. Nevertheless, when I clicked go on a pair of (overpriced) COS interpretations I genuinely thought I could make it work; I’d done my research (Pinterest) on how to wear them and sold a couple pairs of unworn converse  (because who really wears them if they aren’t white/black/navy) to foot some of the bill. I was ready for a challenge and some questioning stares from strangers on Ken high. Nothing I hadn’t done before. They arrived, that new leather smell at first enticing and then it began to wear off. I wore them twice before realising that I did not particularly want to wear them again. Sitting on my floor trying to get the best angle for their Depop debut, I couldn’t remember for the life of me why I’d bought them in the first place. It wasn’t an impulse buy (two weeks of saving and searching for the perfect pair does not an impulse buy make) and I wasn’t blinded by any kind of sale deal. This one was on me.

I don’t see myself as ever having been particularly concerned with being ‘trendy’ or the malarkey of being ‘it’, so what was it that had blind-sided me into buying a pair of shoes I really didn’t love, let alone like all that much? I think it would be easy enough to point a general finger at The Internet, but it didn’t take long for me to twig that I’d first seen mules and a lot of the trends I do make the conscious decision to indulge in on Instagram. The previous Fashion Week they’d been everywhere, and now they were resurfacing on every other foot, just a scroll away. I’d never really twigged before how the virtues of personal taste may be undermined by our desire to be aesthetically pleasing. That’s what it is right? I see ‘X’ wearing them and getting so many likes and something in my mind twigs that they must be appeasing to the masses; I am a part of that mass. I should really own a pair of mules/birks/a bucket hat (?). 

Maybe in principal it isn’t an issue; I’m an adult, I can feed, bathe and clothe myself most days so surely I can distinguish between sartorial FOMO and items I genuinely see myself wearing. The thing is, we check our instagram so many times a day we are constantly in that mode whereby we are our online persona. In that ideal world, I love mules and they love me too. It’s a mutual friendship that is so heavenly I look like I’ve owned them since birth. The disparity between that and the actual me, the real me, the not-instagram-me is sometimes worryingly large. Internet me loves the idea of sartorially controversial pieces, real me likes usually just likes Nike’s and leather skirts. Culottes, at a stretch, because they’re glorified pyjamas. Real me, frankly, is not as cool as my Internet ideal- perhaps that kind of distinction bothers us more than we even realise. After the mules incident (henceforth it shall be known) I started wondering how much of what I owned started as a longing gaze at my phone screen and a subtle desire to be the kind of person who likes that sort of thing. But despite the possible threat to personal style fast fashion like that offers, the ability to temporarily blind us, it's possible that there are virtues in aspiring to be someone with a slightly more daring side when it comes to getting dressed in the morning. Maybe gaining an ability to discern between things I actually want to wear and things I wish I wanted to wear comes from switching off sometimes, or maybe, just maybe, there is a balance between the two whereby I can both be myself and encompass a bit of my own personal internet dream world. Sartorial ambition, shall we call it? They say don't beat it until you've tried it.

06 September 2014

All black in Boston

SELECTED FEMME jumpsuit (here), ZARA bag and sandals (similar), DANIEL WELLINGTON watch* (here), MONICA VINADER friendship bracelet*, ASOS sunglasses (similar)

Hello from the USA! As you read this I'm probably fast asleep since this is scheduled on English time, but today we're heading off to pick up the RV before leaving Boston and heading up to Niagra Falls and Canada. We had a pretty relaxed but awesome day in Boston, heading out for the day just walking the streets around Beacon Hill and the river. You probably can't tell from this outfit but I promise I've been trying hard to contemplate wearing colour- but in 32 degrees celcius, a chiffon playsuit is all I can manage without disintegrating into a puddle of blonde and mascara. Not pretty- no one needs to see that, let alone the poor people of Boston. As I write this, we're off to go see the Red Sox game at Fenway Park. Bring on ze hotdogs and men in tights.
America- It's good to be back.
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