I’ve finally come to grips with the fact that I’m just not that fashionable. I like to look nice, but clothes are really not my thing. I can’t keep up with brands, I don’t understand what makes an outfit normcore, or what differentiates an expensive garment from a Cotton On imitation. And I just don’t care. I don’t care where I get clothes, what they’re made from or whether they’re considered cool. But I feel like I should. I would love to be like the girls who surround me, each with their own chic and recognisable style, not look as though I’ve dressed myself in the dark. I have a friend whose wardrobe is a carefully curated sea of monochrome, while mine, haphazardly strewn together is bright, bolshie and a little bit challenging just like me.
As a kid I loved to dress up in all kinds of horrendously spectacular things. I had a bright green sequin dress that I would traipse around in with a yellow feather boa, and the days I was feeling more subdued a maroon off-the shoulder velvet gown. My parents and sisters totally indulged this and as a result I learnt to never take fashion too seriously. It was play for me, and now it has become something that has little importance in my life.
I’m not ignorant, I have a very talented designer friend, who has elucidated the complex mechanics of the industry and is always very patient as she explains what jumpers I should buy. She's passionate, and I can see there is great beauty, skill and talent stemming from the fashionista's fingers. I think my current nonchalant attitude is partly due to the fact I have a partner who says he likes me in anything, and entertains my more outlandish fashion ideas. The most recent being thigh high stiletto boots, this was after I watched Geordie Shore and fell in love with Charlotte's signature ensemble.
Ollie talked me out of getting the stripper-esque boots in favour for a more practical pair. Honestly, he understands clothes better than me. Last Christmas in an attempt to cure my vehement obsession with jumpsuits he surprised me with four, all of them fit perfectly and looked great. I can't even order knickers online and get them right. The other day he said he liked the preppy look I was going for, I don't even know what constitutes that look but I'm sure I wasn't executing it. Directed by my on fleek clique, I've started investing in expensive, good quality, staple items. Well I've tried to, the inherent thrift shopper in me still finds a bag of clothes (albeit sub-par) so much more satisfying. For that one expensive t-shirt I could get five just like it from Tarjay. I know, I've failed to grasp this concept. Maybe when I earn more money I'll be able to justify spending extra dosh on all things à la mode. But right now it's not a priority.
Besides they say money can't buy style.