I have writer’s amnesia. I cannot remember when I have written something before. I cannot distinguish in my mind between thought, published written word, and drafted but unposted content. As a result, I sometimes have to plough through my own blog and the unpublished drafts to work out whether I have already posted an idea already. As I was doing this just now, in preparation to write another piece, I came across this draft I must have written last summer, when I was last with my family in Perth….I’m not sure why I never posted it but here it is, 9 months later (I guess my blog just gave birth to another post):
If you believe what the magazines tell you, everyone has a personal style. One of my friends once optimistically described mine as “eclectic”. I’m fairly sure that’s a euphemism for inconsistent. Personally I think my look could be called “seasonal”. Or maybe “dressy”. Not because I’m permanently in party wear, but more because I’m pretty much permanently in dresses. Dress-y. I think I have been wearing dresses now almost exclusively for at least 2 years. And although they have been my staple because they are just SO easy to chuck on, I’m starting to emerge from my dress bubble. I can feel the stirrings of a skirt craving…..a gorgeous little skirt like this:
With a soft, plain white t-shirt, the sleeves rolled just-so. It may seem like I’m dress digressing here but there’s a reason I’ve got a skirt yearning…..
There’s something about the onset of a new season that plays around with my image of myself and, perhaps, of who I want to be. I have discussed before the gap between my wardrobe and my actual life. The summer holidays brings out the worst in me. In winter, I can flit between Blair Waldorf preppy
and Bassike minimalism
then segue into a little boho luxe for spring, but come summer I want resort. I want off the shoulder tops and little flippy skirts and strappy, Grecian sandals. I want smooth, golden, lithe limbs (it’s a fantasy okay?). I want to look like I spend my summer days lying on a Greek Island / Tahiti / Byron Bay….even Palm Beach…..and my evenings sipping cocktails and dancing into the night.
In short, I want to be the Zimmermann resort girl, Little Joe Woman, and Ulla Johnson girl all rolled into one. I have spent some time (30 seconds? A minute?) pondering why this ridiculous compulsion overtakes me every summer and I have decided I am not completed deluded. I know I am a pale pink
38 39 year old, mother of four, with cellulite. It’s the feeling these clothes are selling me. Namely relaxation, carefree lack of responsibility……and a little fun.
So this is how I found myself walking / flitting down my parents’ suburban street in a gorgeous Zimmermann floral broderie anglaise day dress
and K Jaques sandals.
In my head I’d spent the morning on the beach and now I’m off for a languid browse in the markets before my siesta. In reality, I’ve spent the afternoon in Timezone, I’m a 15 minute drive from the coast, and I’m off to the park to relieve my sister of her aunty obligations. But in my mind, I’m still an exotic creature, lost in this suburban setting.
I arrive at the park. My sister gives me the once over and opens her mouth. I know she’s seeing what I’m seeing. She’s about to comment on how seldom this suburban street sees such casual, cool yet feminine flair. “You have a Peppa Pig bandaid on your dress” she says, matter of factly.
And as I look down, I see she is right. I peel off the bandaid, and at that moment, I know what my style really is. Zimmermann….with a touch of Peppa Pig.
XOXO Shopping Girl