These are the questions that have plagued my mind (and therefore bank account) this week. I’m now at that stage of economic peril where purchasing blow-outs send me on a major guilt trip as I try desperately to justify my buys to anyone who’ll listen (‘Please Officer, I’m just developing a perfect, good quality CAPSULE wardrobe to last forever’). But I think I might have found at least one cause of the problem.
Last night, whilst compiling my lifelong ASOS Saved Items list, I had a thought. Surely my unquenchable thirst for new clothes is fed directly by the fashion bibles that drop through my letterbox each month? As long as I absorb the endless commands of the Anna Wintours and Lorraine Candys of this world, that ASOS list will never, ever diminish.
With one swish of a glossy page, something I’ve been saving for weeks for is declared ‘out’, and I curse myself for making such a poor, UNINFORMED decision. Aztec print was last season, bloody hell! Busy floral prints a la Mary Katrantzou SS12 are banished to the charity shop when – I echo my Mother’s words – there is nothing wrong with them. Jeez, some still have their tags on.
If last week’s punk-themed Met Ball taught us anything, it’s that sometimes, subverting the style status quo is necessary – a palate cleanser, allowing us breathing space whilst we reconfigure how we actually like to dress, and more to the point, what actually suits us. Too easily we lift our looks from the pages of magazines, with little consideration for their ultimate longevity. What the A-listers of NYC wore last week would, on any other occasion, have been considered a veritable train wreck (case in point: Kim Kardashian’s floral gloved ensemble, the sartorial equivalent of a steam train careering into a botanical garden.). But for one night, they were allowed to indulge in something…interesting. Unusual. Yes, a bit fugly every now and again. But not spoon-fed, and that’s refreshing.
So I ask, is it time for us to do the same? Maybe leave the fishnets be – but why not nod to the punk era simply by acknowledging that it is too demanding on your mind, your soul and definitely your purse to keep up with the latest fashion diktats all the time. I don’t like furry Birkenstocks, Celine! My bags have to be smaller than a hula hoop, Chanel! And I still like my orange skinny jeans from 2011, even though Vogue tells me it’s all about black skinny ankle-skimmers nowadays.
My hope is that eventually, some way into adulthood, I’ll accept my shape. I’ll work out just what I like, what looks good, what feels alright, what’s doable in my everyday life – maybe I’ll even devise a way to wear heels for more than an hour without wincing. Once I figure all that out, I might just reach that trend-oblivious fashion nirvana called Style.
I know I’m not there yet – but with that one last ASOS order, I’m on my way…right?