I’m no fashionista. My wardrobe isn’t creaking with edgy, risky or signature pieces. It’s not home to couture and nor is it a trove of quirky high street brands I discovered down back alleys. It’s literally (yes, really, in the literal sense of the word) straining at the seams with the three brands I know I can rely on. NW3 by Hobbs. Whistles. Boden. In that order.
So full is said wardrobe, I generally have a litter of fashion detritus at the end of my bed yet I wear only a small percentage of this booty. I read somewhere that I’m not alone – apparently most women wear only 30% of their wardrobe (contents, not actual wardrobe, I’m assuming).
And that’s not the only mildly tragic fashion fact in my life. In my twenties I took more risks, wore double-denim, bought cheap but brave and lived in boho earrings before they were Helena Christensen trendy. These days, I’m content to let the retailers do the thinking for me. Messrs. Hobbs, Whistles and Boden. In that order. Most days I throw on a whimsical dress or classic Breton stripe and I’m satisfied that I’m ‘on trend’ (let’s say fashion balanced. Not forward, hopefully not backward). So, whilst I look presentable most of the time, there’s not much personality in my sartorial arrangement anymore. At least not mine. Maybe Mr Boden’s. My hair is usually (always) tied in a messy bun and I almost always throw on my ‘go-with-anything’ ankle boots. Even if they don’t go.
It’s a question of time, really. And rusks. Getting showered and dressed is hard enough with an eight month old but getting showered and styled when the whole ensemble will inevitably end up rusk-encrusted by 11am? Please. I see other Mums pull it off: a fishtail braid down the hairline, an artfully-crafted flick of eyeliner, a well-chosen bracelet. It makes all the difference. But, until now, I’ve always favoured an extra cup of coffee – and then perhaps another – to rifling through my accessory drawers.
This morning, though, I did open those drawers. Okay, it was only to entertain my daughter whilst I quickly smudged on some eyeshadow but as she tore through the pile of beads, magpie-like in her fervour, okay, thought I, let’s throw something on.
Suddenly, I felt like I’d created my outfit, rather than it being chosen by the bods of the fashion world (picture the scene with the cerulean blue sweater in ‘The Devil Wears Prada’). Okay, it was still only a basic Breton pencil skirt and a plain tee but it was a little bit more special and it was responsible for creating this blog…and the ensuing 30 days of blogging.
This is my three-tiered New Year’s resolution:
1. Make an effort to fall in love with bulging wardrobe for whole month of January.
2. Be more imaginative with masses of unworn clothes, accessorising and reinventing in manner of home-grown stylist.
3. Blog results.
Here we go…