Saturday, 3 September 2011

Animal Rescue Shelter

Ahhhh, the three words every girl wants to hear from her boyfriend: “You’re kidding, right?”. Yup, those magical three little words that can completely shatter your love of something – not the boyfriend, don’t worry, I am in fact talking about a skirt.

I bought a skirt and top for a very special upcoming event and was soooo looking forward to wearing it. In a moment of sheer delight and excitement I tired the outfit on and got that response. Now my boyfriend and I are like chalk and cheese: he hates vegetables and I live on them; he likes country and Indie music, I idolise Boyonce and Gaga, so really I should have known better to think ahead and realise he would hate it.

If you’re an avid reader you’re probably sitting there thinking “I’m siding with the BF, this girl always gets it wrong”. But wait, hold that thought a second and let me win you over. It’s a dark nude colour, pleated with a black waistband and from Zara. I thought it was cute, flirty, on trend and rather inoffensive. But when the BF described it as something he could imagine a grandmother wearing, it completely ruined it for me. Now it sits in my wardrobe with its tag still on looking up at me like an abandoned puppy at an animal rescue shelter.

What have I learnt from this experience?

Today I did something very unusual, bazaar even. It was a moment of despair and panic as I had slept in slightly and wasn’t full awake. While the trend has been around for quite some time now, it was always something I was apprehensive of, double denim – I had never seen any of my friends or peers at university wearing an entire denim outfit – but working for a denim brand I thought perhaps I ought to try it on for size so to speak. That was my reasoning at seven fourty-nine when I got changed, anyway.

When I say double denim I didn’t do one tonal denim. No, no. Instead I wore my pink boyfriend jeans with a standard blue denim shirt teamed with a black blazer (which really wasn’t required in the twenty-plus degree heat).But by the time I got to the metro I felt like an absolute prat. The pink jeans on their own are relatively garish – and ironically to be called a ‘boyfriend’ jean, my boyfriend doesn’t like them (as we’re living in different countries right now he thankfully didn’t get to see my fashion disaster du jour). And by the time I got to work I felt like a clown. No one asked to juggle the oranges in the lunch queue though or craft them a toy balloon.

So, what have I learnt from this experience? In the event of dressing in a hurry do not attempt to re-vive or re-interpret a trend that was over three or four seasons ago. Period.