Work // Back to Black

You may mistake me for being a witch but it really isn't the case.
For the past 2 years of my working life I haven't been confined to a strict dress code and therefore have been able to express myself in which ever way I see fit from day to day. To many this is heaven, especially for those I work alongside who are bound to the wonderful tones and variations of the colour black. However, I have recently been presented with an opportunity to start a new chapter in life, open a new door and walk down a new path.
I've seen myself grow in more ways than I thought possible within the past two years, learning new skills and positive characteristics about myself I never thought I would possess. I feel ready to accept new challenges, confident I am in a position to do so successfully.

This new door, however, entails I join my ebony-sporting colleagues in attire fit for a Richard Curtis prequel, Four funerals and a wedding. I've had laughter and confusion from some on how my life could possibly persevere with such restrictions. It must seem outrageous that somebody whose life is led by the clothes on their back, could survive in such a bleak oppressed world. Yet, somehow, I am beyond excited. People seem to forget, clothing and fashion goes beyond colour. Yes, colour is extremely important but what about shape and style? People believe dressing in all black is a restriction but I disagree, it has nothing to do with colour but more to do with the individuals restricted outlook.

Personally, for me, none of the below connote a sense of boredom in terms of the person's style. Expressed across all photograph's, is something classic, flattering, timeless and smart.

From Day to Night: Making Skincare a Routine.

I didn't even begin to wear mascara until I was 16. 

I have recollections of standing around in the bathroom's at school, waiting for my friends to finishing touching up their make-up during our lunch break. I personally was never too phased and haven't ever really been so, since.

That is, until now. I'd like to thank/blame YouTube for that. YouTube has opened my eyes up to a whole world of Pixiwoo, Viviannadoesmakeup, Zoella and Lily Pebbles, among others. In turn, they leave me feeling as if it is essential I own the entire content's of their haul. They are either incredibly persuasive or I am just too much of a sucker for it all. 

One thing positive to come from my little beauty sugar-filled dreams though, is how important it is to care for you skin. It obviously keeps you looking younger and healthy as the days roll in but it also is where a flawless base for your cosmetics begins. I suffer horribly with dry skin down the centre of my face and there is nothing more frustrating than watching your skin morph into that of a lizard's, after applying all your pretty products.

It wasn't long before those darn vloggers had be seriously considering a skincare routine. Thankfully, I wasn't so easily manipulated in shelling out half of my wages on fancier moisturisers...yet. I know I am a fad girl, I go through phases with regards to what takes up my time and decided as much as I'd like to work on a routine, I could be too lazy one day to cooperate with my moisturiser and slowly I'd watch it all come crashing down from there. Economically, I realised I should start out with the cheaper products along the spectrum, until I have faith in myself that I will be consistent and productive in keeping up a routine. Perhaps, then I would consider investing in higher end bits which potentially give my skin a better experience with life. 

So, as you can see from the photo, the products I picked up are all from drugstores (bar the Laura Mercier Body Souffle). Especially with the emphasis on dewy, hydrated looking skin currently on trend, I picked myself up a Brightening Radiance Balm from Superdrug's Naturally Radiant range. It isn't as hydrated as I expected it to be and I find I get a lot more glow and moisture from my basic Cold cream. After a couple of days of using my new skin care products, I realised I was tragically allergic to one of the products when my face became consumed by a horrible rash. After a few days of testing, I whittled it down to the Boots' Botanics Cleansing Toner. The packaging is deceiving in making the product appear very natural and organic but really is packed full of acid's.
For £3.99, the YesTo Cucumber Facial Wipes really work a treat. I highly recommend these, with Lily Pebbles & Anna from Viviannadoesmakeup mentioning them in one of their video's I gave them a go. They don't feel harsh against my skin and can remove make-up in a few easy strokes.

Finally, once the day is through and night draws in, I have taken to applying B. Enriched Restorative Facial Oil before I catch some Z's. Now, this is a huge step for me because I have had a lifetime distain and fear of oil on my skin but if I need to overcome my phobia's in pursuit of healthier skin, than so be it. In reality, I found it sank in to my skin quickly whilst still feeling like it was enriched enough with the product to have an effect. It also felt really quite luxurious in the process. The results in the morning were pure heavenly, not only was my skin left feeling hydrated, smooth and silky but I had a lovely even skin tone to work as a base for my make-up. This in turn left me needing to put a light coverage of foundation on, giving me my desired natural finish. 

Club Tropicana.

It amuses me when I pull all my wishes and my cravings together, how often they create a seamless link between one another. I didn't plan to produce this colour pattern or this tropical theme of exoticness (if that is infact a word) and yet I have ended up with an array of turquoise and watermelon pinks, alongside beaded pineapples and flamingos.  

Taking a step away from my school uniformed/grandpa-esque attire, I'm reaching out to distant shores of a warmer climate. The recent trend with pastel tones seems to have evolved into fruitier, more fluorescent shades as Summer swiftly approaches. Comfort and ease is the way I plan to work with this colour palette, the vibrancy speaks for itself, especially so when patterns are involved too. I have no plans to step foot on any distant shores this year unfortunately but that doesn't mean I can't embrace the suitable wardrobe for a Caribbean trip within the walls of my own home. If I want to drink a Pina Colada, wear sunglasses and bathe in the tub in my swimming costume, I will do so. 

Master Kirrin.

If you weren't already aware, Master Kirrin, is infact a girl by the name of Georgina. Strong and courageous, she is an avid explorer and adventurer. She is brave and shows no fear for whatever is round the corner, always seeking out answers for mysteries that have unfolded. Everything and more that I could ever have dreamt of as a little girl, she is one of my idol's. Be it, a fictional idol. Most people may know her better as George or as one of Enid Blyton's Famous Five.
I wholeheartedly believe you are never too old or too young to read a Famous Five book and I still enjoy them today as much as I did when I was a wee lass. I'd firmly list Five Go To Smuggler's Top among my top 5 favourite books to take with me to a desert island. Doesn't everybody have lists like this or is it just me? Alongside, The Sun Also Rises (Ernest Hemingway), To Kill a Mockingbird (Harper Lee) & Harry Potter & The Deathly Hallows (JK Rowling), it would comfortably sit. The 5th choice is open for any future newcomers, unless that is, I get washed up ashore before I decide.

Having been bed ridden with flu for the past week, I was pained to discover my laptop had failed me, along with my body and thus, I turned to reading. Probably my favourite thing to do but ashamedly, in this modern age, technology often takes ahold of me and places me under a spell. Due to this mystical occult that I have no control over, I quite often suffer from a state of reader's block. However, I had been longing to get back between some pages for quite some time and was presented with the perfect opportunity. I can now say, I am quite highly addicted to my book already (The Luminaries by Eleanor Catton) and have immersed myself back into a world of all things literature. This led me to thinking about stories and on Thursday (World Book Day) I entered into a Penguin competition over on Twitter (that unexplained sorcery again) where I had to choose a book I wish was real. Obviously, I stated any of the Famous Five novels, quite predictably, which made me think about life if they did exist. Ignoring the fact that they would actually now be pent up in some elderly home somewhere, I like to assume they would still be small children. What would George dress like today, I pondered.

...and pondering led on to researching and then moodboard building and VOILA! I was Dr Frankenstein in the making and my monster was coming to life. George, however, is far from a monster and just infact really really tomboyish. Therefore, I basically selected the entirety of APC, Margaret Howell & Steven Alan for her wardrobe. I can't imagine she would ever care too much for clothes in a materialistic sense but rather in the way of utility. Easy comfort for climbing trees and rocks, trusty shoes that would never fail you and bags with enough space and pockets to hide a torch, a rope and other necessities (including treats for Timmy) as well as any clues collected on the way.

This being said, when I get washed up on that lonely remote island, perhaps I will need a wardrobe of such sorts? My new mantra for life is 'WWGD?' but then again, what would the Swallows & Amazon's do? Robinson Crusoe or the Swiss Family Robinson? There are too many questions that evolve in my mind that perhaps, it could be said, I have already been swept away by a literary surf?

Sailors, Shores & Stripes.

A couple of years back, I had an urge to learn to sail. A boat was my new fetish, envisioning scenes where my salt sprayed locks whirled in the winds and beating waves laved against her wooden, tired body. Barefoot on the decks, filled with a sense of liberation that came with being able to explore beyond land, with a buoyant wardrobe laden with stripes. Breton stripes, if I am going to be pernickety.

I've always been a firm believer that you can never go wrong with stripes. People think stripes make you look larger in size but if you've ever watched QI you would know that Sir Stephen says this is false, unless they are vertical. Not horizontal, as people always seem to presume.

Originally introduced during the mid 19th Century as a part of the French Navy's uniform in Brittany, there were a strict 21 stripes to each top. Each stripe representing a victory for Napoleon.

Manufactured in Bretagne (explaining it's infamous moniker), it eventually became popular amongst general workers due to it's comfort, ease and practicality, especially those working at sea. Whether they were seafarers & sailors, undoubtedly bad weather and most possibly drunkenness, led to many an overboard mariner. Thankfully their striate ensemble made it easier for those who successfully stayed aboard, to spot lost crew amongst the waves.

It's no secret that Coco Chanel is an idol to women across the globe. Many dream of getting their mitts on a 2.55 whilst I just admire her fearless perseverance to introduce men's clothes into the wardrobe's of their female counterpart's. Shamelessly cantering atop horses in traditionally masculine riding attire, shunning the sidesaddle, Gabrielle blurred the lines of gender specific clothing. Considering she challenged this around 100 years ago, I still find it a bit strange when people find it curiously interesting that I often dress up as a man.

After a trip to the coast, Chanel became enamoured with the Breton stripes worn by the seaman, incorporating it into her 1917 collection. To this day, I still think this simple pattern, as well as being symbolically nautical, is also synonymous with Coco Chanel and the classic Parisian look. Lost in a Riviera reverie, the striped top is a look of ease. The women at the time must have let out a huge sigh of relief, away from their structured corsetry norm.

Mirror image.

A cluster of recent ensembles that have veiled my form since my return to the blogosphere. 

Childlike charm in pinafores that provide ample pocket space, male-orientated magic incorporating my ever growing array of ties & dickie bows and new coats alongside my lust for the Nineties. Matching combo suit's that look like they've been designed by William Morris in the midst of an acid trip and a constant tête-à-tête battle between Mary-Janes and loafers.

Man shoes.

I'm obsessed with clompy shoes. Proportionally they look perfect with dainty dresses or mini skirts, paired with socks. Adding a tomboyish charm to an otherwise feminine ensemble. 

It's one of the things I've always admired about Marni and the way Conseulo Castiglioni is an advocate of this look. It creates an effortless approach to something which may look a little too dressed or gentle. Almost as if you have just risen from within the layers of your bed and slung on the dress from the evening before and without a second thought, popped on your boyfriend's shoes. It's being the Cinderella, who wasn't too fussed about getting her glass slipper back. 

If I really consider the array of evening/party dresses I have hung up in my wardrobe, I know I could never really get away with wearing them out during the day. Be it to work or just for a browse round the shops. I would feel too elaborate, overdressed. 

However, if I re-imagine the contents of my closet, knowing I was planning to pair it with the footwear the lady above is embracing, I'm pretty sure I would have no qualms about stepping foot outside my door at 9am in the morning. 

Dr Martens would be the easiest way to fulfil these dreams but I know they are on the extreme end of clompy and therefore, be a bit daunting. They do make a lot of their designs in T-bar and Mary Jane styles now though, meaning a little bit more foot is on show, so you can rest assured that people won't mistake you for a victim of the Mafia with cement blocks for shoes. Loafers are also an excellent substitute and are pretty much my dream shoe. I would pick a loafer with a higher front, not the kind you get evil beings have created for women. These loafers have a lower front with the tongue ending just past your toes and therefore, are hard to pair successfully with socks.

Thankfully, male fashion often plays on the classics. They work with what they know and trust when it comes to design. Men tend to not like perusing the shops for hours on end, they want to be in to get what they need and then straight out. This means that their items are quite often timeless pieces, not all men want to hang around long enough to experiment with new looks (I'm not speaking of all men, as I know, in recent years, men's interest in fashion has risen). Due to this, they are then just reworked, or adapted from season to season, whilst keeping their original structure. 

All of this is important as well as wonderful for those of us who enjoy incorporating typically masculine elements into our lives as they are good investments. They pass the test of time and they are more comfortable and hardwearing meaning they can be worn over and over again. 

Commanders, Clouseau & Casablanca

When are you too grown up to consider, what you want to be when you grow up? A Destiny's Child would be my first choice but when people say, 'dreams can come true', I've always felt it implies that they may not always. Following that, I want to be a detective. Hidden beneath a trench coat, collar up, I would make like a chameleon and evade the eyes of my prey.

There's something truly British about a trench coat that I feel should be celebrated. It's not merely a protective piece of outerwear on a rainy day but a symbol of heroic feats established a centenary ago, this year. Be it Burberry or Aquascutum who truly were the creator of such an iconic item, I am unsure if many people are aware that the trench was created as a lighter alternative to the heavy serge overcoats officers wore. Easily modified during World War I to cater for insignia & medals as well as gun straps and other weaponry (modifications that are still used today but now purely for ornamental reasons), it continued over into the Second World War. Eventually being pushed aside for shorter jackets that gave practical mobility for snipers and paratroopers, among others.
Even after the 8th of May 1945, it's design lived on and soldiers returned home with them, popping them over their blue flannel suits as they set off for their mundane, unfulfilling new careers at the office. A lot had changed for the men but the regimented and professional respectability that had been associated with the army officer's uniform meant that they could continue to wear their pride & bravery after the war, just from slipping on their coats.

It was a focus of mine to zone in on the history of an iconic piece of clothing after a brief conversation on Harris Tweed, with an elderly chap whilst I was at work. Iconic clothing has history and quite often originally was invented for a practical purpose. Nowadays, the straps, fasteners or even the fabric an item is made from, may seem as though it is just merely there for show.
This year on the 28th of July, it will have been exactly a hundred years since WWI began. Yet, there are items that surround us, after all this time, that are reminders of the lives sacrificed. People see clothes as being a materialistic desire but with an understanding of their origins I think it can be viewed as a sign of respect, in the same way we wear poppies. With all the people who died preceding the assassination of Franz Ferdinand, it may seem quite insignificant to hone in on something so tenuous as a coat but it is 2014, a 100 years on and it is still here. It lives on and with it, so does it's genesis.
It may seem a relatively far cry from how this connects me to wanting to be a sleuth but without the importance of it's past, it wouldn't have existed and what would Peter Sellers have worn then? Not to mention, Humphrey Bogart in Casablanca would have found his clothes needed an awfully long time to dry when it rained.

Christopher Bailey over at Burberry, has proven he can continuously reinvent the wheel and show there's life in the old overcoat yet, as season by season it is still a sought after item, a staple item for any wardrobe, wanted by both men and women.

Ostriches & Flamingos

The new year has meant getting finances in order. I think at the tender age of 24, it's time I start being more sensible with money, instead of being an ostrich and burying my head in the sand. I normally transfigure into the feathered flightless creatures around the middle of the month. Without making excuses for myself, I put this down to my anxiety and fear of relapsing into depression and not just being irresponsible with money. I have found within the last year, I have hardly treated myself to many delights so it's not like I go on a pay day spending spree at the end of each month. 

However, February 2014 has been the start of this new economical me. Much to my delight I have treated myself on quite a few occasions, paid all my bills and debts whilst leaving myself with quite a healthy sum. 

This being said, I plan to be particularly frugal during this last week and not spend anymore but rather wait until pay day where I can reward myself sufficiently with some more treats.

I use my Pinterest each month to collate all that I desire so I know there is always a comforting place I can go to admire that, which is not mine. However, now I can admire them and look forward to purchasing them with my own hard earned money without fearing the black dog bringing me down. 

Babbling aside, below are some of the items I have been ogling in preparation for the end of this month.

Fixated with bags disguised as objects which aren't bags, this past month I have ordered a Olympia Le Tan-esque milk carton and am currently coveting the Lulu Guinness eye so I can become a perpetual cyclops for the rest of my days. Alongside this, see's the popcorn box which, you guessed it, is also actually a bag. I don't think an item I like passes me by without me envisioning a character or scenario I see myself in, if I were to own it. Predictably, I would like to vanquish the cinema-going drought my illness dragged me into and hit the screens (my loathing for popcorn aside) with this flung over my arm.

Beyond that, there is just a sea of flamingos, periwinkle blues, knitted polo's and shoes that make it seem as if a young gentleman has been frolicking beneath a cherry blossom tree. 

As If!

It feels as though the world is blanketed in Nineties-esque tartan and plaid lately, not that I'm complaining. In fact, it led me to spend time with an old cinematic flame. The other evening, I sat and watched Clueless and lusted over Cher's wardrobe and when I say wardrobe, I quite literally mean her wardrobe. It's the film's twentieth anniversary next year, so why aren't computer compatible wardrobes a thing yet?

Regardless of my vexation for the lack in computer-aided closet technology in our modern society, I'm pretty obsessed with the idea of matching check suits, teeny handbags and fluffy backpacks. The latter, of which, would be a mere accessory and not large enough to function properly as a bag, leading me to cradle my belongings in my arms. 

One notable article of clothing I must admit to enjoying as I revisited this film though, is Cher's long see-through shirts that she wears between layers. Carven's SS14 runway show last year, exhibited pastel Cher-like outfits, including transparent candy floss cardigans that would be right up Cher's street. Can I find this kind of item within shops though? Na-uh. It appears, the high-street is a little bit tardy on the uptake.

Wibble Wobble.

The novelty and nostalgic phase of wearing jelly shoes in the summer time, I find is a regular occurrence these days. Reliving memories of childhood days where problems extended no further than a scraped knee in the playground. I've never previously latched myself back onto this whole wistful experience until just the other week. I hadn't seen them resurface in about a year or so and had completely forgotten about them all together. That was until I stumbled across singer come DJ Whinnie William's instagram. Her wardrobe and her style is a colour pop dream coated in sprinkles and in a world where it's possible unicorns do exist. Seemingly owning every possible Pantone in them, paired with just as vibrant socks to boot, I was hooked. Before long, I was in the ownership of said shoes. One pair in a fluorescent watermelon pink and the other, a transparent glittery black. 

I have now become aware that jelly shoes are coming out of the woodwork in each and every high street shop I tip my hat at. 

For someone so seemingly stuck within a reality of childhood sentiment, I am surprised it has taken me so long to reach out to my old friends. Nevertheless, we have rekindled our flame and are now spending time together on the regular. I have found they are a nice and inexpensive alternative to all of the coloured school-like mary jane's my heart doth desire. 

Alas, remember to pair with socks to refrain from working your feet up into a sweaty frenzy which in turn, results in loud squelches being heard for miles around.

I bet you don't think this post is about you.

I'm always reluctant to say it or type it. It's quite obvious the photo is of my face, isn't it? 

The word I speak of is, 'selfie' or should that be #selfie. I've always believed such photos sent off negative connotations of being vain or self-absorbed and although I'm known to divulge in such photographic activities, I'm often curious over what people must think of me. I would often find myself scrolling through my Instagram uploads and question their quantity. All that was until recently when I read an article on this whole idea and how the female writer, explained that it should actually be viewed as a positive thing. 

In a modern society where we absorb the information magazines and advertising send out to us, dictating how we should look or what we should weigh, surely it's a good thing that we feel happy in ourselves to capture it in a moment and share with our friends. We should be happy in our own skin. This being easier said than done. 

As I already mentioned, I'm often on Instagram showcasing my outfits, snapping my reflection but last year between August and October I suffered a drought. I was no where to be seen, the images were of everything else but myself. To put it so bluntly, I was suffering from depression. I suffer from depression and it comes in waves sandwiched between years, weeks or days, with no explanation of the reason it comes crashing down on me. Last year, I barely left my bed and when I did, it was never to look in the mirror. I couldn't have felt worse about myself physically and mentally, which explains such tundra. 'Why would I want to show myself to anyone, I am not happy with who I am?' I would think. 'Am I supposed to hide behind a smile and pretend it's okay?' It tired me out even thinking about smiling. It was something I had forgotten how to do and didn't even want to do, even if I could find it in myself to remember. 

Right now, I'm in an exceedingly happy place and last year has been and gone, so what I'm really trying to say and what I've taken away from the article is, surely 'selfies' express our happiness in ourselves and being in our own skin. It's not saying, I'm the modern day equivalent of Narcissus but rather a two fingers up at those who play on our insecurities to sell us products. It's nothing to feel ashamed of, which I now only realise as I stand at a distance and compare how I feel now to how I felt then. I want people to know I'm happy and whether that means I shout it from the rooftops or I smile at a camera, it's never a bad thing to feel happy with who you are. 

Suits you sir.

You always look so cool. The man in the cool beautiful suits.

The current piece at the top of my wish list, is to have a three piece suit. I'm a sucker for looking at boys clothing because ordinary men's clothing is always just a bit too big.

I don't know what it is but I'm drawn to soft pastels at the moment so this pretty kitten print bow tie from ASOS would be a perfect touch to feminise the suit a little. Not that I've ever been phased too much by being completely masculine in my outfits. 

It's a family affair.

Consumed by the realms of style, led by my own ideas and my confidence in who I want to become each day. I very rarely have style icons to whom I look to for inspiration as I emerge from bed each morning but choose instead, to hone in on characteristics or lifestyles of people generally, past and present. Be that through a certain era or perhaps a person's sex (It's a commodity to see me in a shirt without a tie or a dicky bow). Maybe you will see me choosing to eliminate any element of my womanhood as I bop around in a cord pinafore, ribbons in my hair or mary jane shoes on my feet as I stubbornly retain the child in me.

My mum (far right) on a school trip to Sayer's Croft.

With this in mind, within the last week or so I have come to fathom how all of these ideas draw from those closest to me. My family. It is no hidden fact, we are all very close and during 2013 I spent a lot of my time investigating our history and trawling through copious amounts of old photographs. Alas, I now can see that nobody will ever look as fly as my nan does eating a toffee apple. My mum's understanding for my wanting to often dress masculine is a result of her being a bit of tomboy as a young child, at my uncle's side. The free spirited approach to dressing how I choose, must have passed on from my dad's hippy sense of nature and how if I could own anybody's wardrobe in the world (bar Alexa Chung) it would be my uncle Richard's as a boy. 

My mum in her plaid pinafore. 

I think what I am really trying to say is, my style is a part of me gifted by my family, of which I am proud and is the reason the limitless confidence I have in my appearance exists. Without even realising it, my aunt (from the photo below) has made me become so prejudice towards cardigans on my endless hunt for knitwear just as good.

My aunt Eileen (in the most perfect cardigan and shorts combo) and my uncle Richard at the beach. 

My dislike of toffee apples I believed stemmed from my lack of interest in all that is sweet (very much unlike my family in this instance) but now I have started to consider if it were merely a subconscious belief I could never live up to the cool exterior my nan gives off as she poses for the photo with such nonchalance.

Nan, her toffee apple and that faultless ensemble. 

So really I just want to say a huge thank you to my family for showing me what it is to be cool, whilst meanwhile throwing a tad bit of frustration their way, questioning why they didn't ever store any of their wardrobe for future me? I believe I could have squeezed myself into that buckle skirt of my mum's, I'm sure.

My mum & my uncle.

In training.

Jumper: APC Skirt: Whistles Bag: ASOS Trainers: Zara

It's been quite sometime since I donned a pair of trainers, I've never been one to sportily dress and therefore have shunned them in the face of fashion. That is until they began showing up alongside outfits they didn't belong and because they didn't belong, they looked good and running shoes with suits no longer belonged to Ellen Degeneres.

I now find myself putting together outfits in my flat, facing myself footless in the mirror, thinking trainers would make this outfit. Something I would never, a few months ago, believe I would ever again say in my life. Now the issue is just choosing among many, which ones I desire the most.

Tshirt: Weekday Trainers: Zara Dungaree Dress: Cheap Monday
Dungarees: Topshop Check Blouse: Topshop Boutique Trainers: New Balance

Next time I come in here, I'm cracking skulls

'Movie makeovers that should never have happened' is the name of Stylist magazine's recent online piece that had me stirring with feelings of curiosity so strong it could comatose a cat or two. It isn't a secret to know how much I adore films and how out of the way I will go in order fill myself up with knowledgeable information on the world that surrounds them. So for me I found myself eager to see the selection they had put together and the reasons that had lead them to such a definite array.

For a magazine, that to me, has always centred their universe around women's equality comfortably alongside fashion, travel and anything else independent women could put their hard earned wages towards, I felt let down. The piece comes across as so narcissistic alongside articles on the Girlguides support of the No More Page 3 campaign and Stirling Moss V Susie Wolff, on the fight against sexism in sport. I am an avid reader of other magazines which are predominately fashion focused and to me finding this among their daily online articles, although would disappoint me, wouldn't surprise me. Yet, on the pages of Stylist's site just seem misplaced.

I initially caught sight of Laney from She's All That which threw me back to my teens and then captured a glimpse of what I expected I'd find, Allison from The Breakfast Club. I find it difficult to appoint a top ten of my favourite films ever because it's hard to discriminate against so many but I'm a firm believer in thinking that The Breakfast Club ranks pretty high up in the charts. It is the epitome of teen high school flicks and you might shout at me from the bleachers, '...but what about Grease?' or 'Dead Poets Society is so much more dramatic!' and other such remarks but The Breakfast Club is able to generously offer both comedy and drama better than any other. Filled to the brim with moral messages on teen angst, the film (apart from the introduction and ending) is confined to the walls of the high school's library and surrounding hallways and will have you identifying with each of the five characters at one point or another during the film.

It's what makes me so fond of the film; there is so much to recognise in their teenage worries, issues and conversations, which is hugely satisfying considering you spend the majority of your teen life feeling alone and as if you are the only one suffering. It needs, simply, little more than a few rooms/sets and five different teen examples to show the viewer as much as you think no one else understands the plights of your teenage years, in fact everyone goes through the same motions and emotions regardless of what music you are into, how you dress or where you rank on the popularity scale.

Stylist's argument for why Allison shouldn't have undergone a makeover all comes down to the fact that she looked better beforehand with her dark moody black eyeliner instead of her floral alice band and flicky fringe. Now I understand their article does state their decisions are beauty based but for a film that zones in on many important issues, I have always seen it as the films largest albeit only fault, in  that Allison; the basket case, is made over by Claire; the princess, in order to fit in. I find this an inconceivable message to send out to viewers, that in order to be popular and make friends, you have to change who you are, as well as dress and behave a certain way. Especially considering Molly Ringwald's Claire and Emilio Estevez' Andrew (the two popular ones) open up about the emotional pressure and struggles they battle with to look and be the best in order to be popular and respected by those around them during the film.

I have always believed 'hate' is too strong a word to throw around in a sentence or conversation and therefore, rarely use it but for a film I love so much, I genuinely hate this element of the storyline. It goes against everything the film tries to teach us within a matter of moments towards the end. Disappointing it is then to read Stylist pose such a materialistic reasoning behind it's choice regardless of whether they were strictly speaking in terms of 'beauty'. I agree it is a makeover that shouldn't have happened but not due to the fact her hairstyle looked worse afterwards but because it is telling us in order to be liked and even noticed (Judd Nelson's Bender is only attracted to her once she has been made over) we need to change who we are and what we look like.

Will she still eat cereal & Pixie Stix sandwiches when she's popular?

Homecoming.

I'm perpetually caught in a reverie where I find myself intrigued by bygone eras to the point I swathe myself in outfits to look as though I'm from a certain time or place. I also tend to read books, both fiction and non fiction, normally based during a period of time I never experienced, as well as searching the internet for candid achromatic photographs to admire of Hollywood movie stars or snapshots of a past culture (most typically 20th century American teens for me) via Life or somewhere similar. I can't honestly say why I feel so entertained by history to the point I want to live and breathe it, feed my mind with knowledge of it and encapsulate it within my wardrobe but I do. Perhaps the fluffy almost exaggerated ideological interpretation of it, far from the negative issues of yesteryear, appear to us all as a simpler time.

I believed this right up until just a few days ago when I read an interview via Interview magazine's website. The singular female (who also happened to be the interviewer) on the topic of living in another time, quite decidedly without hesitation, informed the three men that she wouldn't. I was quite frankly shocked. I spend my days aimlessly and hopelessly looking to fill the gap disappointment has created from not being able to time travel and yet here was a woman who assertively and openly proclaimed she wouldn't want to be in another time. Was she delusional? We live in an age where vintage and retro (University brainwashed me into acknowledging these are two completely different things) products are a booming (both authentic or replicated copies) and she says no? But why I asked in a bewildered frenzy, and lo and behold her answer was the simplest of answers, much more simple than I believe the past to be. '...because I am a woman', she had stated and if there's something I want more than to live in a fluffy bygone era (with Fifties sundaes at the local ice cream parlour or Gatsby-esque Jazz age parties) it is to be a woman with equal rights. Feminist is too much of a debated word for me and unlike some, I don't believe we could survive without men and/or are superior to them but more so, do I believe in equality. (In that case, I shall call myself an egalitarian). She was right, by goodness me she was right. In all of history, I wouldn't be treated better than I do now, (that isn't to say I think equality is where it should be yet) so why would I wish to go backwards? I'll admit, that hasn't dissolved my desire completely but it has given me a fresh outlook and left me battling for a few days on whether she is right or wrong.

Today, I was hit with a classic lightbulb moment wherein I realised, there are women throughout history who are extremely admirable for being strong and independent. Society always has it's restrictions and that's something that is never going to change but to say no to living in a previous time because she was a woman? What about Amelia Earhart or Rosa Parks who pushed at those boundaries. They are the women that are still remembered today are they not? Role models for young girls of their time and ever since, showing them that they can believe in and desire much bigger dreams outside of the box society has created. Without pushing those boundaries, we wouldn't evolve. Without the fight of the suffragettes would we still live in a place where women aren't granted the freedom to vote? Would we have female MPs?

What I am trying to say is, why would you say no to living in the past because of the way women were treated. Why not instead say yes, to be a woman that changes the face of history. A woman that pushes the boundaries and proves society wrong? Or why not just push the boundaries of society today whilst we quietly wait for Marty and Doc to show up on our doorsteps?

Under African Skies

It's lovely to have pennies in my pocket but why is it that when you have got some dollar, you can't see anything to spend your money on. I turn into such a frugal little creature and can never seem to find anything I like and when I do, I have to question myself up to 10 times for a couple of days as it gathers dust in the online shop's basket. 

This weekend I have my boyfriend's uncle's 40th birthday to attend after work so I wanted to treat myself to something new. Feeling vibrant colours and through my appreciation of lady-like lengths and shapes I discovered this beautiful skirt on ASOS.

It is a part of their ASOS Africa range and I am just so damn excited for it to arrive. Always inspired by Natalie Joos, I know I needed to branch out and be a bit more adventurous with clashing prints and colours so I am still on the search for a suitable top half of the outfit. Any ideas?

I fear that I will end up with a simple, plain t-shirt up top but I don't feel discouraged by that having been inspired by this image from Lucy Laucht I discovered via Pinterest.

Pretty, pretty. 

Venice.

Hello stranger. It's been sometime, I have been so busy, caught between working a day job, interning of an evening and freelance writing on top of that. I'm exhausted the majority of the time these days and it doesn't take long for my eyelids to flutter and shut up shop for the day, when I get in from work. 

Whilst I have been busying myself, my parents decided to fly to Venice last week for a few days and get away from this terrible weather. They had a fabulous time and took some beautiful photos which I edited for them on their return. They are so lovely and colourful I had to share them. 

Getting super inspired by colours and nature at the moment so these photographs were a warm welcome into my life, I am so excited to share them with you. They have embellished my wanderlust. 

As I have been so busy, you can always keep up with me via Pinterest, Tumblr or Instagram. 

 

Trickle or treat.

The catwalks trickle down onto the high street is a wonderful thing for us mere mortals who can't afford such lavish treasures but sometimes it's just a pain when certain shows you love don't find there way into a cheaper alternative. 

I've been drooling over Christopher Kane's collection recently. With the sunshine out I've been dreaming about his clompy and comfortable sandals that you would never dream of wearing normally. When I had an operation a few years back on my feet I had to wear something very similar but I didn't fall for them in the same way I do these. 

Does the high street think they won't get sales? I can understand why but dear gosh I would do anything to get my hands on these items.