Tuesday, 15 July 2014

How ter...?



Calling all festival acolytes!

Can you pack all of your festival essentials into one wicker picnic basket? If you can't but know someone who knows someone who has done this, please comment ASAP with their full details including phone number, email, and Facebook profile, thank you. 

Also, please comment urgently if you think that, hypothetically, such a thing is possible? I'd like to compile a list of those people, and, if I succeed alongside them, we will call ourselves The Wicker Festival Disciples (Who Have Nothing to Do with the Wicker Man). Our short title will be The Wickos. Incidentally, it will have nothing to do with the words "wack" or "wacko", by the way.

In case you were wondering.

Aside from packing smart but light, I think the absolute key to enjoying a festival is to just pretend that, anatomically, your feet exist as separate entities from the rest of yourself. Let them do what they like and go and enjoy the music, food and/or looking at people who are dressed more interestingly than you (WHY didn't you bring a flower crown or at least your 5-year-old sister's Bratz tiara?). 

Some footwear really assists with my hypothesis. As far as I know, so long as you wear decent socks, your feet will not blister in wellies, and even if they do, just remember: separate entities.


Floral shirt, vintage Liberty
Tweed blazer, gift
Navy skirt, GAP
Hunter wellies, c/o Cloggs

Tuesday, 13 May 2014

Apples and Pears

My top blogging advice, if anyone asked, would be to view your blog from the perspective of someone who knows little about the process. What one will read/see is something supremely self-indulgent. I try to step away from the self-indulgent side of things by not supplementing pictorial content with too much self-centered narrative, especially when it is photos of myself in... a ball gown? Not just a ball gown but an in-yer-face, 'glam the eff down' ballgown. That beautifully shows off one's two stone weight gain, more than anything else. 

I think that last sentence is the epitome of why I hesitate before I post anything that is not purely visual, preferring silence as the best form of online communication. Writing a style blog generates a performative self-awareness one shouldn't have. There's this weird expectation that you're supposed to write on what you look like, a bizarre typing out on a computer screen of the sort of interior monologue people normally have when looking at themselves in the mirror. 'I'm wearing this and this. It makes me look great/egg-shaped/sick/like a tapir/like a lemur/like an elephant/like a hobbit/like a banana'. I *love* the persistent obsession we have with comparing ourselves to inanimate objects such as apples, hourglasses... pears?! Why not be living things? It is absurd and fascinating, the circuitousness of the language we use when describing our outer selves, and it is fascinating that there is no desire on our part to escape from this semantic trap. 

So before my toes get stuck in said trap, what do I say now? Mostly, a big thank you to Wish Want Wear for getting in touch and somehow making sure that a Temperley dress landed on my bed before my college ball. It garnered an uncomfortably stratospheric amount of attention, but if you're after that kind of thing then definitely go for it as it is "stunning", "incredible" - I'm quoting people, but I do nod in agreement. I nod a lot. Oh, and I should say it's a terrific website to use - there is a free returns label on the box, and you don't have to worry about being precious with the dress to avoid damage. 

Photos by the one the only Rosalind, who wrote a piece in Violet mag and you should all read it.  

Dress, Temperley London c/o Wish Want Wear.
Platforms, Schuh (similar)