THE TIGHTS GOT IT

The sun's out, get your tights on. 

I think it's called symbiosis; when two dissimilar things coincide with one another. I mean it makes total sense right? Like cheese and jam. 

It's warm (ish) outside, you want to release that new gingham dress from the confines of wardrobedom but the clouds are moving in, it may or may not be currently drizzling and the sun is causing you to overheat sporadically. Short of upper lip sweat, this couldn't get any worse. And then you notice that you should have left ten minutes ago to get to work exactly five minutes before your boss arrives. Panic ensues. What to do?! 

Perhaps I should reintroduce you to your oft overlooked tights drawer. Untangle a pair, any pair will do and leave right now. Forget the coffee, you're running off of pure anxiety anyway, the fumes of which will carry you through until lunch break, and after that, smugness at your resplendent outfit construction will allow your day to continue on in Anna Wintour approved style. Take a selfie, it's been a good day.

The BFF of tights, otherwise known as the dress, is ease embodied, covering your modesty in one shimmy and a shrug. But alas, some days full leg exposure is just not it. Enter the tights. 

The probability of your tights receiving anything more than a sigh of relief at the last hoist is slimmer than a whittled down toothpick. Yet, the humble tights deserve some recognition, just a quick thanks for covering my legs when regrowth appears in that pesky way that it does so and fake tan patchiness leaves you far too closely reminiscent of a sepia toned zebra for any excuses to feasibly explain.  

I look to pop culture to strengthen my rather wordy point here. See Blair Waldorf of Gossip Girl and her consistent commitment to maximising the fashion potential of every extremity. Tights were seldom black and rarely opaque because evidently it's go bold or get off the Met steps. Similarly, Willow Rosenberg of Buffy The Vampire Slayer, co-ordinated her looks from H to T, (that's hat to tights FYI). Both  looks aren't for the faint of heart or clumsy of ways for that matter - ladders and/or holes are never cute, sorry Courtney Love. 

I hereby suggest you develop a fast affinity with black or navy, the denier is down to personal preference but remember there is a distinct difference between thick tights and leggings - namely that tights are never trousers, whereas leggings have already *sadly* been adopted by the obviously mirror-less masses. We can see your ass honey, and what you had for breakfast... 

Never fear an unexpected drizzle again. Give your skinnys the day off and go dance in the rain; though I should mention that I cannot be held accountable for any colds caught, however, any outfit compliments received are totally my doing. 

(Images via: vogue.com, glamour.com, styledumonde.com)

GINGHAM MORE

So after my very rambunctious proclamation that I am in fact back, I rather ironically, disappeared from the blogosphere. But I must assure you that I wasn't re-enacting every 90's pop groups' failed attempt at a come back. Rather the internet rudely up and left me, resulting in a disconnect from the digital world and thus no postage of late. And that brings us back to the here and now, and more importantly to the issue at hand, which is namely my new fixation on everything and anything gingham. 

The only accompaniment fit for Dorothy's ruby red slippers, has shirked its picnic blanket schtick and, thanks in large part to Diane Von Furstenberg's SS15 collection, become the only thing necessary for summer - or life if you're feeling as committed (&/or dramatic) as I am. 

I feel that gingham is more oft overlooked than its other patterned compadres. The breton stripe for example is a permanent fixture on my instagram feed, as is a smattering of ye olde leopard print (I describe it as such because in my opinion leopard print is eternally chic, amen) which I can't say I'm sorry for at all. Gingham is however seemingly relegated to warmer climes and what with us living in the UK where the weather is constantly pms-ing, the time just never feels quite right to don the simpler counterpart of plaid. But the question I'd like to address is, why?   

Don't you people own a vest? Or an imagination? Because evidently I didn't until I consciously acknowledged my consistent gravitation to anything remotely checkered. For the first time ever I finally empathised with Homer Simpson. It was quite the outer body experience, as what can only be considered an epiphany occurred right there in the middle of Zara (where all life changing things happen, right?). I had my first real life 'Doh!' moment. I hope the similarities end there, I don't know how I'd dress the beer belly or accessorise the balding head... 

There I was in my natural environment (i.e. shopping) with a peplum, plunge neckline, backless, gingham top in hand, the only thing it lacked was the ability to make me a sandwich and would you believe it, I put it back!!! This is definitely worthy of three exclamation marks and should hereafter be known as a situation. Since this event, I feel a sartorial emptiness. My wardrobe as is, is just not quite enough. The void is real as is the struggle. Gingham has since photobombed every scenario of life, becoming a spectre of sorts reminding me of my bad judgement.

Then I found it.

Or rather it whispered to me, lulled me in, flirted with me a little, caressed my body with its fabric swathes and that was that, I was hooked. Cash was being handed over before I'd even checked the size, let alone the price. And here it sits. Happily winking at me from the sanctuary of my wardrobe. 

Is love of a material item materialistic? Something this pure and real surely can't be... Weirdly I haven't worn it outside yet. The weather seems to be against our union but I have a feeling that you can't keep a zip fronted, shirt dress with an adorable drawstring waist, floaty skirt and (obv) gingham pattern locked away for too long. For now, pictures and pirouetting in my bedroom will have to suffice but as soon as the clouds break, we're outta here. 

(Images via: brit.co, romantiqueandrebel.com, whowhatwear.com,  pinterest, missyellestore.blogspot.com)