Fashion is built upon a principle of exclusivity. Clothing may be universal but it seems that the realms of high fashion are reserved for an elite few.
(People bring people together but I'll bet you 50p that they're all wearing clothes at this meeting, which according to my logic makes fashion the universal bringer together-er of comforters all around)
When I first discovered the fashion blogospheres that existed out there I felt like I was taking a peek into a stylish girl's wardrobe, a mix of one of a kind finds and hand me down designer pieces. Now these same blogs are awash with designer gifts and fabulous parties. The distance has never been more obvious than it is now. Before I saw fashion bloggers as the link between the 'every girl' and the fashion world, now it's all become one and the same, and though it may seem as if I am against this growth, that is not the case. I totally understand that over time things evolve and why shouldn't these girls reap the rewards of their success? But not everyone has the opportunity to attend fashion weeks, or receives personal invites to designer parties or is called to host such parties. And as fun as it is to gain an insight into this bizarre and highly glamourous world, sometimes I do wonder about the link between the banalities of life and fashion. Is fashion only reserved for the fashionable? And segregated to only the most fashionable of events?
(Didn't you know that ones fashion credentials were in direct proportion to how many white dots they could stick down their back?)
I mean you still gotta get dressed on those days that aren't underscored thrice and highlighted in bold as 'meeting with Karl' or 'Diddy's party'. Clothing is pretty mandatory, skip it at your own peril (and risk possible arrest) but little is said about the days when all you've got planned is, well, nothing, or when all you have to keep are those more unpleasant appointments.
Recently personal events and a coincidental perusal of a vintage issue of Harpers Bazaar (I mean it's dated as October 2013, that's vintage right?) have got me to thinking, isn't fashion more than just clothing? When times are tough, doesn't making an effort and dressing up help just that little bit? You may think I'm sounding awfully superficial but I don't just mean fashion in the material sense, it's so much more then that. In the Harpers Bazaar article 'A Tender Touch', Sacha Bonsor writes about the collaboration between Stella McCartney and creative director of 'Rake', Clive Darby, on a collection of practical and fashionable headscarves for cancer patients. On the relation between fashion and illness McCartney says: "I think that when facing the big things, it is important that we remember that the little things are important too". It is all too easy to assume that "aesthetic frivolities disappear when confronted with one's own mortality… this is not the case" says Bonsor when talking of her own personal battles. We all want to look good because that in turn makes us feel good, especially when our confidence is at an all time low.
Whilst I am in no way arguing that fashion is in anyway some form magical cure, I do believe that wearing something that gives you comfort or makes you feel special is an important factor in self healing, coming to terms with difficult times or even those seemingly little issues that can cause an array of worries. The idea behind the above mentioned headscarves was to "give confidence through enhancing a patient's look, but they would also provide staff, who see around 60 patients a week, with a way of connecting" explained Bonsor. These scarves proved to be so much more than their material worth, and I think this idea translates to those everyday worries that come from the seemingly mundane aspects of life.
So I figured I'd break the fashion blogger mold and explore what to wear on those less than pleasant days. Doctors have to be seen, as do dentists and opticians but you don't have to dress like it's doomsday. As they say, every cloud has a silver lining and in my opinion, every outfit has a hidden sparkly underlay, you just need to polish it up.
(I feel like this really is a 'fuck yeah' moment. I'm just going to go high five myself.)
I am an incessant worrier and I find fashion a comforting distraction. At times practicality and functionality reign supreme, for example the (often put off) smear test. This definitely has picked up a bad rep, yes it's totally embarrassing but you can take comfort in the fact that they have seen it all before, yes even that, so don't worry. This is probably the only occasion where I'd propose leggings as the choice du jour, ease is key and nothing says easy like an elasticated waistband. To make up for the lack of choice downstairs I'd definitely recommend throwing a full on fashion party upstairs. Wear your favourite top, or necklace or something that makes you feel confident, because unfortunately there are few things to make up for you baring all but making it bearable is manageable. Also I find listening to Disney's most annoying hits to be quite an efficient distraction technique, you'll be up for anything if theres a chance it'll take your mind of the High School Musical lyrics stuck on repeat in your head!
And because they say good things come in threes, I have also had my first blood test and a dental appointment all just a few days apart from one another. Now to most a blood test isn't anything to lose sleep over, for me however it became a thing. I called this my first blood test which isn't strictly true. When I was 15 years old I contracted mumps on a school skiing trip to Austria. If waking up to a face reminiscent of a gerbil wasn't bad enough, I was then met with the prospect of a blood test.
After being promptly taken to a hospital where the signs did nothing but confuse me more, I was greeted by a friendly doctor and his counterpart - the unfriendly doctor, and thus started the to-ing and fro-ing of my first blood test. I said no I didn't want one, nice doc said don't worry it'll be fine, I said no again, less-nice doc told me I wasn't a little girl and I should basically get a grip. Funnily enough this was quite effective. No one belittles me and gets proved right. So I thrust over my arm and stared bleakly out of the window at the snowy mountains that I knew I wouldn't be skiing down anytime soon.
Needless to say this left a lasting impression on me so I was underwhelmed when I recently had to go for another. And because nothing is ever smooth sailing in my life, I'll give you the details of what went down next. On the morning of my little trip to the phlebotomist I filled myself up with bran flakes, arrived at the hospital, entered the very tense waiting room at number 98 and then proceeded to wait until number 43 flashed up. The countdown was unpleasant to say the least but I eventually made it to the chair, sat down, was asked if I'd eaten anything to which I replied 'yes', and was then met with a blank face and to be told that I was supposed to be fasting. It turns out that doctors really do have awful handwriting.
(The wait is the worst, and nothing helps quicken the passage of time more than various rings that you can play with, repeatedly, much to the annoyance of all those around you - which is a bonus really.)
The saga then carried over to the next day and alas, despite all of the drama, I can say that I survived. On both of these rather stressful occasions I channelled my overactive mind into my outfit. It was boiling outside, waiting rooms are stuffy and I wanted something comfortable to ease the lack of comfort that I was feeling. My mum threw in the advice that short sleeves would be preferable - a very valid point. Both times I chose jeans with lots of stretch in - for added comfort - and an elbow length, loose fitting top. Were my outfits head turners? No. Did I feel good? Yes. And because I knew I'd spend most of my time either looking at the floor or just generally looking away, I chose my multicolour, stripy block shoes and a stack of various bangles for distraction value. I'm like the quintessential magpie, attracted by all that spangles.
(Mui Mui's greatest creation in my opinion. Offering practicality with their block heel and functionality with their mirror ball quality - doubling as the ultimate party starter and a handy mirror)
And lastly my dental appointment. I hate the dentist. I really should re-phrase that considering my dentist is a family friend. I hate the prospect of multiple sharp objects being jammed into my mouth. There, hopefully that sounded better. Anyway, the dentist was however, slightly less traumatic (although at one point it did feel like he was attempting to remove my whole top set of teeth rather than a retainer he was fitting…) but you really do have to factor in the very possible dribble factor. No one ever looks good with their mouth pulled open in all which ways. That is a fact. One that no amount of good clothing can alter. But you can feel rest assured that it is possible to beat the potential water spray and horrendous facial jibes in just one step. Wear black. (And maybe a bib…) Jazzy trousers add panache to this outfit and again I keep these loose fit because sometimes it's hard to remain ladylike when getting on and off those pesky dental chairs.
(Well would you look here, the mouth is made into a very glossy looking bullseye, which is much what I feel my mouth becomes when entering through the doors of the dentist. Word of warning nix the lipstick if you want to avoid looking like a child who's just devoured an entire jar of jam.)
The stories of my escapades are by no means travesties, in fact, like most of my life, they are quite comical (usually after the event rather than during I might add) but we will all at some point in our lives fall upon hard times, scars that will last on our bodies forever not to be hidden but merely offset with things that make us feel beautiful, because at the end of it all, isn't that what we all are?
Fashion might be frivolous but what's wrong with a bit of frivolity sometimes?
(None of the above photos are my own and I do not take credit for any of them. Photos from ManRepeller, Tomboy and WGSN)
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