THE DENIM MINI SKIRT : A BLANK CANVAS

The denim skirt - how unoriginal, right?

I'm not writing about ground breaking trends here, 2018 has given us enough of those already. But we're currently experiencing actual hot weather in the UK and with that, the revelation of legs are upon us.

There is something about bare legs that I find distinctly risqué. I am a trouser aficionado, feeling more comfortable with my stems firmly clothed, not having to worry about positioning all limbs just-so, bracing myself for an unsuspecting gust of wind and at all costs trying to avoid a knickers flash. However, recently I started experimenting with mid length skirts as an introductory foray, a toe dip if you will, into pins-out season. The breeze about my ankles was pleasant and much welcomed in this oppressive heat and soon enough I was tempting hemlines ever shorter, shins and calfs were exposed, knees peaked out and thighs were grazed, which led to the rediscovery of the denim skirt.

The denim skirt has an insouciance similar to that of a Breton top or a brogue. However, I have always fallen short of imbuing this basic with the essence of myself that I feel necessary to do with all of my outfits. Without this 'myselfness', I rather, unsurprisingly, don't feel like myself, which affects my confidence and thus my day-to-day interactions with society. Not to be defeated and coupled with this oppressive heat wave, I decided to push through this self-imposed boundary and actually attempt a denim mini skirt. I can't say that I have made peace with tailored renditions of denim, the noughties flashbacks being all too vivid. However, I have come to the internal compromise of a loose fit, raw hemmed denim skirt, something casual and imbued with nonchalance.

Yet, once this had been decided, I was struck by another obstacle; the illusive partner to the denim skirt. I had always considered the denim mini too basic, like UGGs or bootleg jeans. A fashion faux pas that spoke of stunted style and asphyxiation of inspiration, in short, visual boredom. However, this got me to thinking; what separates the denim mini from a pair of denim jeans? Them being just as basic, if not more so, considered the Everyman staple, appropriate for most occasions and befitting any and all weathers. Once this comparison had been made, an adjustment of mindset ensued. The very blandness that had before spoken only of vanilla, now became a visual signifier of potential. Anything goes: blouses, t-shirts, jumpers, a bikini, dressed up or down, to the beach, to the bar, to lounge in, to adventure in, smartened up, casual-ed down. Little thought enabled an outfit; a lazy girl's 'how-to' in easy dressing without the basic b***h connotations. 

The blank canvas of the denim mini skirt became a palette cleanser of sorts, enabling personal expression to abound. The difference laying in the nuances that separate bland and blank, as in the denim mini skirt being a blank space to project the many facets of personal style and the many renditions of expression it affords one. 

(Photos via : whowhatwear, songofstyle & lovestylemindfulness.co.uk)

THE SPECIFICS OF OCCASION WEAR

Occasion wear is a tricky beast to yield, one made all the more problematic by our refusal to pre-plan for plans not already made.

Far too often I have found myself struck by an item, one which ensnares my attention, one which sends my imagination rampant with excitement, one which with a wont so desperate I almost commit to a life together. That is until I regain my composure as a functioning adult and talk myself down: 'I don't need this, I don't need this...'

Yet there are also those times when an occasion arises that warrants  a dedicated outfit and it is this occasion specific wear that encourages much excitement, until said outfit alludes and then much panic ensues, culminating in foot stamping, resentment and a last minute borrowed dress that is fine but not quite right. 

The issue here being the specificity of these occasions and lack of 'what if' clothing that being an adult affords one. Unless you need it, one withstands the impulse to buy it. But what if at the time said item was first seen, it wasn't actually needed, and now an occasion has arisen that befits that very same item perfectly, but alas, it's no longer available? Welcome to my continued dilemma. 

There have been countless garments overlooked, my imagination being curbed by my affliction of sensible thinking. Ballgowns are left forlorn, perfectly good wetsuits remain unconsidered as I struggle to think responsibly, rationalising that I have yet to book said surf lesson or intend to do so in the near future... However, should the opportunity afford me, I would find myself utterly unprepared. And this got me to thinking, is staying on topic suffocating the possibility of potential? 

The pertinence of this question rang true when I was invited to my best friend's wedding. I had nothing to wear. And though countless dresses abounded and numerous articles littered the internet with 'How to's for wedding wear' and 'do's and don'ts' of wedding etiquette, nothing aided my quest nor inspired my imagination for a wedding guest outfit. To add further to my dilemma, I was invited to the ceremony during the day, meaning that I could not rely on the dimly lit ambience afforded the evening guests. Instead I would be photographed in the all too honest glare of daylight. This outfit would be seen; I needed something worth seeing. 

The dresses about the highstreet all geared toward desperate wedding goers were not typical of my aesthetic and the pastel suit I had envisaged was overlooked in the ignorance of 'having time' and not needing it 'right now'. But of course as time ran down, so did my options. An ASOS order in desperation was placed, and a mad dash to the Zara sale one lunchtime took place. There was much stress and now there is much for me to return.

In spite of this, I did in fact go fully clothed to the wedding. Although the thought still plagued me; is it better to buy based on like or on necessity? Perhaps an ounce of forward thinking need be employed here - what is the likelihood of being invited to a wedding, or the probability of a christening? Hazarding a guess, I'd say pretty likely. Yet, I'd also posit that few will already possess an item of clothing for 'just incase'. Rather we choose to be reactionary as opposed to buying what we like when we like it, which would result in a preparedness for those occasions not yet known of. 

Though forethought cannot combat every eventuality, buying items based on like regardless of precisely when they will be worn, drastically increases the chances that said item will get worn. A wispy, floral, 'Summer incarnate' concoction of a dress, bought at the height of December, may go unworn until the rain ceases around mid-Spring (or Summer if you're from the UK). However, once the clouds break, it'll be worn more times that Paris Hilton says "that's hot!"

The formula for succeeding at occasion specific wear and breaking down dress-codes is to buy what you like, when you like it, as that, versus buying on impulse under the pressure of a looming date, is always more authentically you and that is the only dress code one need worry about.  

(All images : via Vogue) 

POWER DRESSING : THE POINTED TOE SHOE

Are pointed flats the modern rendition of power dressing? 

During the 80s women adopted a decidedly more masculine silhouette. Reprising the suit from their male counterparts and moving away from the ethereal aesthetic of the 70s into sharp tailoring and oversized proportions accomplished largely through the 80's stalwart, the shoulder pads. This however, was not to be mistaken for women dressing as men, rather it was a visual signifier that women too are powerful (an attribute associated with the suit and more poignantly with men in suits). 

Whilst suiting, especially those that come in pastel varieties, are experiencing a revival this season and are now appropriated by men and women, this article isn't to posit the benefits of suits or shoulder pads (give them a try though). Rather it's about a pair of shoes that I feel captures that same essence of rebellious power dressing synonymous with the 80s; the pointed toe flat.

Similarly to the power suit, the pointed toe flat is a silhouette that breaks with the tradition that women should take up less room, both visually and verbally. Petite proportions and quiet clothing culminate in an image of visual docility that speaks of the historical role of agreeable women. However, like the razor edged shoulders of the 80's, the pointed toe flat seeks to challenge this stereotype. The pointed toe pump rages against restriction, elongating rather than shrinking and thus opposing the attractive image of the small, dainty female and the image of the foot that  follows this.

To reference the fairytale of Cinderella, the story focuses upon the elevation from hardship to high society of a mysterious young women, who after a night's rendezvous disappears back into the obscurity of her daily chores, only to be rescued purely upon the identification of her petite foot and the revelation that this dainty foot fits the magical glass slipper. The Ugly Stepsisters (being ugly inside and out) are symbolised by their big, unfeminine feet, the identification of which leads to the unravelling of their image as high society women.

Cinderella is identified as princess-worthy through the fetishisation of femininity and the idealisation of the female body (i.e small feet being conducive to female attractiveness). Concurrently the Ugly Stepsisters possess negative qualities that are visualised through physical attributes that are considered unfeminine and ergo unattractive (bad looks such as big feet, denote a sense of female fraudulence).

Though the ugliness of the stepsisters runs far deeper then just their large footwear, the presumption that a dainty foot amounts to beauty is historically rooted. The practise of foot binding as a means of physical perfection, social progression and marital desirability was practised for more than 1000 years. And a recent google search brings up articles such as 'women with size five feet are most attractive to men' (Telegraph) and 'man's perfect woman has this type of foot' (Footfiles). 

According to research documented in the Telegraph, the formula for the perfect foot is "a size five, wearing three inch heels and red toe nail varnish" with a third of men "making a character judgement based on the state of [... a women's feet]. The article focuses on self-care of female feet, mens' views on female feet and how "more than half of the UK's top earning women spend nothing on caring for their feet" - how truly shocking. 

And it would seem that a man's affinity for the petite foot may be inherent, as an experiment by Jeremy Atkinson, in which composites of small footed and large footed women were shown to men in a bid that they would choose who they found most attractive. The results concluded that men were three and a half times more likely to choose the images of the small footed women as those most attractive (Footfiles). 

With this in mind, it would seem that the pointed toe shoe is truly radical, elongating as opposed to encouraging a small refined, stereotypically 'attractive' image. The angular shape contradicts the typical softness and curves associated with femininity, the female form and prescribed female behaviours. The streamlined point of the shoes speaks of a tailored sophistication that is aesthetically chic in its simplicity , yet powerful in it's rebellious spike shape. Images of Rosa Klebb (the Bond villain) spring to mind and though minus the debilitating poison dipped tips, the rebellion feels palpable, metamorphosing from the material and informing my attitude.

It may be a small step of rebellion, but my pointed toe shoes encourage purposeful strides rather than reluctant shuffles. So walk tall, the world truly is at your feet. 

(Photos via : WhoWhatWear, elleuk.com, vogue.es, theyallhateus.com)