The only time a man should wear a skirt is to a stag do

In the news today there was an article about a Brazilian student who had been briefly expelled from university. No, she hadn’t plagiarised her final year dissertation or defaced a picture of her schools principle; she had worn a skirt which was deemed too short by university officials.

Ok, so, they wanted to discipline said student, but kicking her out of uni? Common! I understand that the Brazilian Education Authorities want to show that their institution is a place full of respectable, serious and ambitious students and that they would like them to represent their establishment in an appropriate way. But university is a place to broaden the mind, find one’s voice and gain life experiences: free thinking is encouraged…self expression should be too.

So what’s considered an inappropriate skirt length? When I was in primary school I was given into trouble for having my skirt sit two inches above my knee, then strangely, when I was in secondary school my skirt got longer and I gained self respect for myself. Jokes. Obvs.

Perhaps there ought to be clear, easy-to-follow rules about skirts, like:

O. If the total length of the skirt is less than five inches it is then, in fact, counted as a belt. (Take note, Jordan).

O. Suitable underwear should be worn in case of blustery days or trips and falls (if the skirt sits above the knee).

O. Floor length skirts may only be worn by tall people.

O. The only time a man should wear a skirt is to a stag do.

That's the risk I'll have to take

Don’t you just love it whena topic sparks debate. From serious matters like politics and global warming to flippant questions like ‘what should I have for dinner?’ (Falafal or Quorn) and ‘which boy shall I fancy this week? (that would be telling), its great to have an opinion and discuss said opinion.

Since purchasing The Jacket (see below) a few weeks ago, I’ve had some very varied conversations regarding vintage. So let’s consider it shall we?

I’ll admit myself that it took me a while to be persuaded to ‘like’ what I commonly thought of as someone else’s cast-off’s, but I soon came round to the idea of wearing something with a rich history behind it, thinking up the stories it’s heard and the places it must have seen over the years. Vintage is generally regarded as a piece of clothing or jewellery, a pair of shoes or an accessory made between 1930 and 1980. Anything before then is antique and anything after then is retro.

There are so many reasons as to why vintage has suddenly become a trend is its own right though. Firstly, the environment and economy go hand in hand with the advantages of investing in vintage. It’s promoting the recycling and the reuse of something that is almost certainly now a one off. You can pretty much guarantee it has not been made by a five year old sitting in a dark basement for eighteen hours a day and who has ten thousand more to finish off by the end of the week either. The quality and craftsmanship is usually exquisitely executed and pronounced and you’re probably not going to bump into anyone wearing the same thing in your local on a Friday night.

I think you get the picture? I’m obviously pro-vintage. I’m not obsessed by any means though; you’ll never catch me in something that resembles my Grandmothers nightdress just because it’s vintage. Those that I buy blend into my wardrobe in the form of a jacket, cardigan or bag, shining out as happy and as beautiful as the first day I hung them in there. My friend agrees, “I love the thrill of finding something completely unique”. Me too. I also love the compliments perfect strangers pay me when I flaunt my latest find.

However, I also have friends who utterly oppose the idea of wearing something not ‘new’: “what if someone has died in it though?” Well, that’s the risk I’ll have to take.

Some getting used to

I’m not much of a jewellery person. In fact, I’m not much of an accessories person either. My general rule of style is ‘less is more’, unless of course I’m faced with an item of clothing that has to be adorned with jewels and gems and the kitchen sink. What was it that Coco Chanel famously said? Always take off the last thing you put on? Yes, something to that extent. I applaud you Mademoiselle Coco. You’re damn right.

Perhaps my weariness of over-doing-it stems from the days when I wanted to be a ‘sk8r chic’ and Avril Lavigne was my style icon. Thankfully that phase lasted only a short while during the holidays one summer. I look back through the photos of 2002 and cringe at the multiple ear piercings and jelly bangles I thought looked cool.

Anyway, back to my main point. Now, in 2010, I’m not much of a jewellery person. I wear the same pieces day in day out because they a) mean something to me – like the necklaces and earings I was given for my 21st, b) they’re simple and I like them – thus complying with Coco’s principles of style and fashion, c) I just don’t suit being overloaded and weighed down by it all. Or maybe I’m boring?

Mmm.

Except, if I think about it and look at my jewellery stand, I actually have quite a lot of the stuff lying around. Necklaces, earings, bangles and bracelets, even headbands. But the one thing that appears to be missing is a sever lack of rings. Sure, I still have my Pocahontas mood ring my BFF got me for my 7th birthday, but other than that my poor fingers must be feeling left out. Sooooo…the other day I bought a ring. A lovely little silver charm ring – it has a star hanging off of it. It’s cute. I like it. It’s just going to take some getting used to.

History of history

Ok, so I know I’ve not painted the best portrait of Father Dearest in the past, having described his sense of style as remarkably similar to a 14th century Pagan or something to that extent, but what can I say…he’s obviously been paying attention in recent months. I had a phone call from him yesterday morning to say that while on his way to work he had passed a charity shop with the most interesting jacket in its window and that he had popped in and put it on hold for me. Now, when anyone, myself included, uses the word ‘interesting’ to describe an item of clothing it’s usually not in a positive light. I pushed it a little further, “what do you mean by interesting?”, I asked. “Well, its vintage Frank Usher, covered in gold and brown sequins, medium length sleeves, blah blah blah”. I had stopped listening at ‘Frank Usher’. To cut a long story short, I can reveal to you now avid readers, that I am now the proud owner of the most beautiful, exquisite, dashing jacket in the history of history.

A work of art

Great Scott! By Joe! Zara, how you tease me so! Why is it that every store of yours I visit you flaunt the most perfect dress in front of me: so beautifully it sits perched on a hanger just waiting to be bought. Alas – it’s not meant to be, covered in feathers its design rewrites the fairytale and turns this swan into an ugly duckling. Perhaps I should buy it anyway and hang it on my wall in a frame so I can appreciate it as a work of art.

Oh dear

T: Minus forty eight hundred hours

Mission: Project Hen Party

Objective: Find a dress

Notes: Oxford Street apparently is not the place to go.

Despite being Europe’s busiest shopping street, with an amazing 548 shops (I wikipedia’d that, obvs) and a worldwide reputation for being THE high-street shopping destination, period, you would think that finding a dress would be as easy as A, B, C.

Evidently not.

Even a hop on the Piccadilly Line to Harrods and Harvey Nichols didn’t make much of a difference. In fact if anything, doing so made me confused. The dress I had in mind was black, made from material and be acceptable to wear in public. The shop windows were encouraging me to wear a dress made of clothes pegs, lengthen my legs so I’d appear as tall as the Eiffel Tower or construct an outfit made of hardbacks.

Oh dear.

A nice day

A habit is something we do with a sense of familiarity and to which we are accustomed. Sometimes hard to break, sometimes bad, occasionally leading to addiction but, for the most part, a habit is something we do without thought and without agenda.

Since living in London this summer I’ve gotten into the most annoying habit. Its quite possible to experience all four seasons in one day in Scotland (I may have exaggerated there, but I'm not far off the truth). Despite the soaring temperatures and constant sunshine (sorry, I don’t mean to make you jealous) I cannot get out of my home regime of always being prepared for all weather eventualities. Here, in London, I will always have a scarf, jacket or umbrella on me…just in case.

I can count on one hand the amount of times I’ve had to use them.

O. For the occasional rain – all two times in eight weeks – my umbrella did come in handy I’ll admit. But it was warm rain and it was quite refreshing to be cooled off by a light drizzle, so it didn’t stay up for all that long.

O. When it looks slightly overcast (a rare sight) I’ll take a jacket with me and maybe wear it if I can’t be bothered carrying it on the tube (or risk it getting crushed in my bag or - worse – having lunch spill on it…again) but this is quite a nuisance.

O. Ahhh, the scarf. So practical at home, yet such an inconvenience here. Yes they do help to accessorise an outfit but really they’re not needed. The longer they are, the longer it takes to get it off, and the longer you stand on a busy platform looking like a complete tool for wearing such a thing on such a nice day.