Monday, January 9
Neither Bec nor I could leave behind this little cat print dress when we happened across it at Camden market. Who could resist the prospect of making like blog-twins?
You'll get a better look another day, promise :)
I can't wait for spring to do it's thing. Not only but also because my new season inappropriate but totally awesome halter dress arrived and I found a silly handbag to go with it that just screams SUMMER!
I used to have a white purse exactly like this back in the day. Great for playing shop. Last year I noticed a lot of plastic fantastic stuff in stores and nostalgia for my little toy handbag welled up in me. So of course no imitation would do.
I am a childish dresser really. Silly prints, cheerful colours and even carbon copies of my playthings apparently ;) I am in two minds about being "age appropriate".
A friend I hadn't seen in a while recently commented I looked about fifteen. That gave me a little shock with an undercurrent of smug, but mostly shock. It's nice to shave off a decade and a half, but pubescent is not really what I am going for.
As much as I am all for wearing whatever makes me happy I know ten years down the line my current wardrobe might look a little.. creepy. I hold a vague belief that my style will sober over time without conscious effort. That I'll just naturally start going easy on bows as I age and maybe soften my colour palette. Subtle changes that'll boost my respectability but invariably take away from the childlike, raw enjoyment of wearing a fun outfit with all the extras.
Some days I worry I might miss the signs and start to look like a crazy as time ticks by instead. The memory of a menopausal teacher in Lolita gear still makes me cringe. Maybe it is not so much age appropriateness I am looking for. After all I wouldn't face a pack of fourteen year olds with bows in my hair even now. Maybe age appropriate is a myth and situational appropriateness is all it ever takes.
Maybe it is all about being comfortable in your skin and the geography Lolita jarred with me only because she assumed the mannerisms of a little girl to go with the clothes. There was a fear of ageing blatantly visible in her, a denial and self deception that was painful to watch.
Similarly, I remember a classmate, barely sixteen and already scared stiff of time slipping through her fingers. She held her face immobile for fear a smile would crease her face forever. Wrinkles like monsters creeping up on her the very moment she drops her guard.
Personally, I've always been more concerned with the kind of wrinkles time will bring: Will it be smiling crows feet or worry lines?
What's your take on all that?
earrings: accessorize I think
crochet blouse & brooch: vintage (etsy)
dress: camden market
mittens & bangle: primark
denim jacket & satchel: eBay
boots: legero (present)