THE STORY OF THE DUNGAREES

As told through Buffy The Vampire Slayer.

Now I realise this would make it two 'Buffy' references in just as many weeks but recently I've been consumed by a wave of nostalgia. I'm debating a 'Charmed' dedication post and I mean 'Sex & the City' is ever present (did I mention a chapter of my dissertation was centred on the fashionable foursome?) 

(There's panic, there's a bloody forehead, so of course there's dungarees)

For those not of the 90s, or for anyone opposed to the sci-fi genre, Buffy Summers might be a bit of an anomaly, but before the days of sparkly skinned vampires and Twilight induced hysteria, Buffy was the vampire slayer. It's a marked generational shift, long gone are the days of villainous vampires, eroticised instead as these fanged creatures of perfection. 

But before the emphasis rested solely upon 'Team Edward' or 'Team Jacob', Buffy and her seemingly un-slayer like outfits were the focus (for me at least). I mean how was she able to high kick and backflip in those leather trousers?! Is that one of her superpowers? 

Clothing is always a rather handy vehicle for narrative exposition. Communicating so much without having to say a word. For example, when Faith entered the show in season 3, Buffy's style took a remarkably reserved turn. Gone were the crop tops and teeny, thigh grazing skirts, replaced instead with twin sets and pink, sooo much pink. Faith was the anti-Buffy, her schtick was that she could never live up to bubblegum Buffy and her goody-two-shoes ways. So to reinforce the dichotomy between the two, Buffy naturally evolved into the reincarnation of girl-next-door. 

Another example would be Willow's transformation from Crayola crayon to serious wicca woman, a storyline that could be told on mute just by focusing on her wardrobe development. I miss the fuzzy jumpers and single coloured outfits though to be honest.

But these are both side notes to my main point. What I'd really like to round back to is the function of dungarees in BTVS (Buffy the Vampire Slayer). 

I'd like to point out that I love dungarees - with the straps up not down.

However, in 'BTVS' dungarees are only ever used to communicate dejection. Buffy runs away, cue dungarees; Buffy's been kicked out of school whilst coincidentally wearing dungarees; Buffy feels like an outsider who's constantly on the fringe of society and just for added emphasis, you guessed it, she's wearing dungarees. 

Maybe it's a 90s thing, but the dungarees that adorn (or should I say swamp) Buffy's tiny frame overwhelm her with their swathes of denim. Is their purpose to hide her away from her problems? Disguise her from the misery of her impending fate? Is the true nemesis of Buffy, the dungaree?

  

(A cry for help?)

Since when did dungarees become a signifier for sad times ahead? If that's the case then Alexa Chung's affinity for the denim overall has long been mistaken for fashion savviness instead of a desperate outcry. Poor Alexa ey. 

Maybe Buffy's power lies in her femininity, which when engulfed by the dungarees, are temporarily stifled. Buffy looks innocent and sweet, she says quippy lines and likes to be rewarded with cookies - as everyone knows, sugar and spice and everything nice are what little girls are made of. She's like a stereotype incarnate in everything apart from her kick-ass hidden powers. 

Yet on watching the show it becomes clear, there aint nothing stereotypical about Miss Buffy Summers. Rather the show inverts the very stereotype it seems to uphold. The focus of all Buffy's powers are physical, her super strength power at odds with her dainty outer appearance. It only makes sense then for her body to remain hidden when times are difficult and her powers aren't so, you know, powerful. 

By making Buffy look as indistinguishable as a sack of potatoes, and thus hiding the very source of her powers under layers of thick material, it only adds to reinforce her desperate/life threatening or just-been-broken-up-with, dreary situation. And concurrently as soon as that strength is regained, out come the leather pants and crop tops hugging every little 'lady lump' (thanks Fergie) of Buffy's teeny body, and she's back to her female Scrappy Doo ways - or as Joss Whedon himself intended, for her to be "Barbie with a kung-fu grip". 

The idea of the female body, femininity, and the restrictions of female stereotypes have been divulged by many academics, something I find incredibly interesting, if somewhat comical (I read that the caverns and tunnels of the Hellmouth under Sunnydale where 'Buffy' is set, mimic the complexities of the female vagina - call it femininism gone mad!) But I won't get too deep, I'll stick to the overalls and let the others dig underneath.       

Now as much as I admire Buffy, and whilst I trust her entirely when it comes to all things vampire/monster/demon or anything else weird, I will question her melancholy use of dungarees. I mean come on, what says summer more than a loose fitting pair of dungarees, running barefoot through a field or something? 

If Buffy ever makes a reappearance on our screens (and I have heard rumours) maybe I'll put all of this to Joss Whedon himself? I'm sure he'll take kindly to my comments. So lets make dungarees a celebratory thing from now on yeah?

(Hands up if you agree with this new outlook on the old dungarees. SJP's with me at least.)

Dedicated to Madeleine Sheridon, the person who introduced me to 'Buffy' and thus enabled me to waffle on in this post. Many thanks bub.

CHOCOLATE O'CLOCK

So after 40 days & 40 nights (46 in actuality but you know, who's counting…) of living life chocolate free, I can now officially say that I'm tucking into the chocolate equivalent of Mount Snowdon. And it's only breakfast time.

I plan on having a light lunch, so I can accommodate more chocolate and then for dinner I'll have a variation on the chocolate theme that's running my life at the moment (I'm thinking a white and milk combo), followed by, yup, you guessed it, a chocolate dessert, but to stop any chocolate fatigue (pfft like that would happen) I'll throw in some caramel for good measure just to keep things fresh.  

Chocolate has been on my mind continuously over the last few weeks. Many an internal monologue has revolved around why I made the confounding decision to part ways with the glorious stuff. And as usual my family have been supportive as ever - continuing to buy the most chocolatey of desserts and lavishly eat it all up (right in front of my face I might add)  but not before asking if I wanted any, with a giant smirk across their faces (my little brother in particular). I guess it only adds to strengthen my willpower - if nothing else it demonstrated the fortitude of my restraint!

But I made it through those dark days and here I am devouring chocolate macaroons, just because I can.

And with it being Easter and all, plus my having fallen across this utterly inspiring article from Vogue '10 Reasons Not To Feel Guilty About Eating Chocolate', I figured a chocolate post was more than necessary, if not utterly imperative.

Please feel free to drool.

 (wetpaint.com, ifood.tv, Lauduree Macarons, Cadburys)

HAPPY EASTER! 

 (None of these photos are my own and I don't take any credit for them)

  

OH ANNA

Well lookie here what I discovered.

(I mean if Buffy (the vamp slayer) can wear stilettos to fight demons, shouldn't Anna have the power to rock a heel when walking her dog?)

LOL at my last post then. I guess everyone needs a respite from fashion every now and again. Maybe that's what's going on in the wider scheme of things - everyone's just taking a break, hitting the snooze button, repeatedly. Wonder how many snoozes you can hit before you're alarm clock just explodes?

Clearly I'll just have to wait for the fashion worlds' big ol' ticker to go BOOM before this train(er) - see what I did there? - runs its course. 

PS. I'm going to Australia this summer and it turns out a Bumbag is pretty high on the 'Traveller's List of Essentials'. 

Wow this is really turning into a day of 'do-overs' eh.

THE (ANTI)FASHION PHENOMENA

I'm wearing trainers right now.

No, I'm not at the gym.

Let me reflect a little.

(Trainers, trainers everywhere…)

The me of yonder years laughed at people in trainers. Not only laughed but mocked. My friends and I took a particular dislike to black trainers, seeing them as the epitome of all that is 'uncool' in this world and the next.  

Whilst I stick ardently (for now) to my aversion for all things black and trainery, I did just buy Boyfriend a pair of his very own gym shoes, all blacked out and ninja-ry. 

And what adds to the bafflement of this whole trainer situation that has taken over as of late - and by late I mean the last year or three - is that people are actually complimenting Boyfriend's black kicks. I think the only thing that can be deduced from all of this (my younger self shudders as I type this) is that black trainers are cool.

Actually let me reinforce this with an even bolder statement: TRAINERS ARE COOL.

Maybe this isn't even that bold a statement. I mean everyone and their grandmother seem to be choosing the option of leisure as their shoe du jour, even heels are disguised to look like trainers now (see Isabelle Marant if you're looking for someone to blame) - which is utter blasphemy if you ask me, since when did we become ashamed of heels? However, that's a debate entirely of it's own...

I would never snub a shoe of comfort but I'm still not sold on this whole 'trainer thing'. Converses have long been a stalwart staple in the arsenal of fasionistas in the know. However, they're not a training shoe as such. I give the same look to people who wear Converses to the gym as I do to those who wear a snap back or beanie to the gym. It's a look of utter confusion and WTF-ness. Converses are like a shoe category in their own right. It's inexplicable or at least it's not something I care to attempt to explain, but for whatever reason, they've been adopted by the fashion community and if history is anything to go by, they're sure to be sticking around. 

There's been a number of leisure-type shoes that have had their five minutes of fame, like KEDS for example or, more recently, Superga, but like the good ol' Converses, they're not a trainer. When I think of trainers, middle aged men and the stereotypical American mother of every 90s film I've ever seen, replete with 'mom jeans' (an (anti)fashion trend that's reared it's ugly head - and unfortunately, rather saggy bum) spring to mind. The next image from my mental montage is Lily Allen, circa early noughties, back when she was parading around in her prom dress and trainer get up (who'd have thought the now Chanel muse would have started life as a chav ey?) Needless to say this look never appealed to me. So moving swiftly on, the final association I have when I think of trainers is more of a memory than a still frame, harkening back to numerous gym classes spent feeling awkward and damn unfit. So is it any wonder that I have such an aversion to this trainer trend when the foundations of my relationship to the gym shoe are based upon such shaky ground?

I've read countless articles on the new wave of 'antifashion' that's hit, like, everywhere (refer back to the 'mom jeans' comment above). For example the Birkenstocks (which FYI I've always thought looked pretty rad, in an LA beach, surf chick kinda way) but now with the addition of socks?! Yes SOCKS! I mean I'm all for the sock/shoe combo, but I draw the line at accompanying what is essentially a flipflop with socks! You might as well don a bumbag too and embrace the tourist look all the way. 'But wait!' I hear you cry, 'festival season means the re-emergence of that 80s throwback, known to Americans as the 'fannyback' - which only adds to reinforce this as the epitome of anti-fashion in my opinion.

And that's not the end of it. It seems that for one to be 'in fashion' nowadays, one must dress as nondescript as possible. What began as Pheobe Phillo's paired down French chic, has now been cloned, and resultantly diluted, by storms of supposedly fashion savvy individuals. Crowds of people parading around in slight variations of the same thing, stifling any kind of individuality or inspiration that may have been garnered. I mean how many Stan Smith's did you see over all of the fashion weeks? If you're anything like me, then you've seen enough to last a few lifetimes. But really the true tragedy of this story is how god awful boring everyone looks!

((Photo linked to a whole blog post on how over-worn these shoes are!)

I hope you can feel my exasperation.

Ah well, thank goodness for the fashion chameleons out there, those few who shirk the norm, who swim against the tide in a multicolour zigzagged swimsuit whilst everyone else lounges around in their boring black and white two pieces.

I'm staring at my trainers and whilst they're utterly fabulous in all their green glory, I'm thinking my fast daps should remain strictly under the 'gym attire' umbrella of my ridiculously organised and stellar-ly categorised wardrobe. In a world of so many choices and so few feet, I find it hard to believe that we would turn our noses up at the plethora of utterly spectacular shoes, in favour of hanging about in trainers. I mean please, someone help me figure this out, or maybe I'll just turn to Anna. Please take note of how NO trainers appear in the following photos.

I LOVE YOU ANNA

 (She really is the cherry on the top. Sigh)

FORGETTING DATE NIGHT

Last weekend I did something that completely undermines the 'female in a relationship stereotype'. Key troupes of this female in love have been mocked and exploited in numerous Hollywood depictions: Grease, Mean Girls, Legally Blonde, The Notebook, all centre on this ideal of epic love. This flashy love with all the bells and whistles is supposedly worth longing for, fighting for, chasing after, changing for and apparently losing your friends over. But to be honest all of this mushy stuff tends to leave one, as Beyonce neatly sums up, "crazy in love". Emphasis on the crazy.

(Photo by Emily Nelson Art) 

There's two types of crazy: the 'funny' crazy, e.g Ronald Mcdonald or the 'scary' crazy, see also Ronald Mcdonald. When it comes to love, women are more often than not painted as the latter. Think scrawling your name with the addition of his surname; fantasising about your lives together before you've even had the first date; planning your wedding before you've even finished the second date and all the while we're supposed to have this ticking clock adding up the hours, minutes, seconds that the two of you have been together. Yep, just your regular pyscho girlfriend behaviour…

Well I think I forgot to set my mandatory clock, (and, err I'm not a pyscho) because last saturday was my one year anniversary and I was none-the-wiser. 

Other than Christmas and certain people's birthdays (I must admit I've been known to get the date of my own birthday wrong) there's not many other causes for dates to be encircled in my diary, let alone reasons for celebration. What hope do I have of remembering any other future milestones, if I can't even remember this first one? 

But on an altogether more serious note, I missed out on the obligatory 'what the heck am I going to wear' scenario. So I can't help but feel somewhat cheated by my own forgetfulness. 

So for the sake of my sieve-like mind, humour me in imagining what I would have worn in the event that like the girls of rom-com land, I'd remembered the significance of this day. 

Maybe all black? Casual & Chic? Coz after 365 days do you really have to make that much of an effort? Hmm..boyfriend wore a shirt so maybe I do.

Casual & colourful. A shirt & trousers combo plus some killer accessories is always a winner, no? 

Because I have evasive tendencies, maybe I could avoid the choice altogether, and do outfit changes throughout the night?

Failing that non-committal idea, how about a compromise? All black with a statement shoe? I mean heel height being completely dependent on destination however…

If all else fails can you ever go wrong with a statement jacket? I think not. Out comes my trusty dark denim flares and slouchy tee. Ah yes.

But then this happened…

 And then this..

And suddenly I want purple&leopard print and then blue & a pair of graphic trousers and I'm back to wanting a shirt. 

Alas the saga continues. 

I guess it's just as well that I've got another year-ish until this becomes a reality. Let's hope I remember ey! 

(Photo credits: AM-LUL, WGSN TUMBLR, EMILY NELSON, OLSENS ANONYMOUS & UNKNOWN)

A WHOLE LOTTA EMPTINESS

I'm about to spout out what is probably the most well worn cliche that has yet to plague womankind and has done so since the concept of clothing became a mandatory expectation  in civilised society. It's a constant paradox that we women tend to live in - to have so much yet so little. Yes I'm about to blurt out that well worn phrase, that in just six little words completely undermines a woman's grasp on reality and, if that wasn't enough, destabilises her credibility as a legitimate fashion maven.    

It brings us to the brink of despair and causes much eye rolling from those around us.

Despite all of this, I have to confess: 

I HAVE NOTHING TO WEAR!

(Cara Delevigne gives a masterclass in the phases of this breakdown) 

Yes, I do realise that the seams of my wardrobe are bulging so much that it could be mistaken for the house of the Michelin Man and now you mention it, yes I am sat atop a pile of jumpers that could very easily be mistaken for Mount Everest, but really that's not the point. 

I remain stedfast in my earlier proclamation. 

Cue pitiful pretend sob, arms flailing and the dramatic, "why does this always happen to me?!!"

Roll forward 24 hours and you'll find a much calmer me. And writing from this new perspective I feel like I can come at this highly charged subject from a new, more logical angle and it's pretty much all due to Leandra Medine of ManRepeller. 

I'll explain my epiphany: One hoarder in denial - a stunted imagination + Medine's inspiring 'One item worn umpteen different ways' posts = complete rejuvenation.

(Take one dress, or is it a skirt…)

(Layering 101)

You probably already read Medine's blog but, if in the rare case that you've been cohabiting with Spongebob in a pineapple under the sea and have happened to miss it, (and with this scenario I'm assuming internet connection in a fruit, submerged under water isn't quite 4G but then again I may be wrong) follow the link above and mosey on over. 

Side Note: Spongebob references are legitimately cool after Jeremy Scott overrun Moschino with the annoyingly cute (cutely annoying?) little yellow square.

So to conclude on this monumental leap, I declare that I shall never again look upon my plentiful wardrobe and be blinded by the limitations I impose upon myself. Heretofore, manifold will be the buzzword of my life. Amen.

A spade might be a spade but a dress 'aint just a dress. 

(All photos from Manrepeller & Pinterest.)