Personal style is a difficult thing to define. I guess my first memory of thinking I had it sussed was when I was about six and spent an entire summer in turquoise cycling shorts and a striped pink t-shirt. Since then, my style has been an eclectic mix of experiences, feelings and moments. After all, moving to another part of the country for university and becoming an amalgamation of the girls I lived with had as much of an impact on my style and sense of self as fashion magazines did. I was a patchwork quilt of all my lived experiences, each offering a slice of sartorial wisdom that informed both my choice of clothing and the way I felt about myself.
Then I started studying fashion and my confidence dwindled – everyone seemed to know exactly who they were and how to put together outfits that were absolutely glorious. Was I up to scratch? I probably was, but I didn’t feel like it. Enter: the fashion influencers of Instagram. Every single one of them, with their heeled boots and camel oversized blazers told me one thing: this is how you are supposed to dress. Combine this with a month-long internship in an office with people who looked down at me from atop their Aeyde cowboy boots and I was convinced that if I were to make it in the fashion industry, I would have to dress exactly like that.
I bought an oversized blazer, cowboy boots, more white t-shirts than I can count and three different pairs of straight leg jeans. I tried on at least 10 pairs of strappy sandals (none were comfy) and finally found a pair of white chunky trainers that I liked. I wore my hair in a tight low bun and accessorised with pearl hair clips and gold necklaces. I had the monochromatic wardrobe of every Instagram girl out there, but I felt like an imposter. Oh, and I was bored.
What I really love is colour. Not just one colour, either. I like outfits that have so many different colours you feel overwhelmed. I love spring - I love when daffodils grow and the shops are a pastel fever dream bursting with shades of lilac and pistachio and lemon and baby pink. I wanted to have fun with my clothes, to wear what I wanted to wear rather than what everyone else was wearing.
Playing with colour is fun, but there is a fine line between finding colours that compliment each other and looking like the patchwork quilt your Grandma made in the 60’s. Luckily, what I learnt along the way is that your natural instinct is right way more times than it is wrong so if you feel like something works, it probably does. There is something about learning to trust your own outfit decisions that is absolutely liberating - I feel powerful and confident in my ability to put together a good outfit and, thus, in everything. It’s weird, I know, to put this much pressure on what my outfit choices mean outside of the literal this-is-what-I’m-wearing-today, but hear me out. I have become more daring, more creative, more willing to push boundaries in both my sartorial choices and how I choose to live my life. I guess, in a way, all I’ve done is find my way back to the six-year-old who knew that colourful dressing was simply an extension of the colourful person she is. I hope she’s proud of me.
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