FURRR REAL

Something has happened to me. I'm not quite sure when it happened  but I'm scared. Terrified actually.

I'm not quite sure how I'd describe my own personal style. I'd love to be one of those girls who spout off a full list of adjectives that sound utterly nonsensical but oh so acute at the same time (boho chic with a glamorous, punk edge all with a cherry on top) but alas I'm not.

I don't have a proclivity for changing my style everyday. Whilst I don't believe in the concept of a finite identity, I see myself growing naturally and my style inclinations doing the same. Clothes are the markers of identity but they're not the defining factor. They just reflect a certain outside factor; an external representation of an internal feeling. I'm changeable, complicated to put a finer point on it I guess, so despite my often verbose vocabulary I find it impossible to define my style. Maybe I don't really want to box myself in. I like to be changeable, a bit sporadic.  

Case in point before today I have never ever been into fur, in any iteration. Then on my lunch break, mid-mouthful of soup and whilst pursuing through the pages of my favourite guilty pleasure mag to get my daily ounce of fashion sustenance. I saw it; a fold over, mustard, oversized FURRY clutch and right next to it were a pair of delicate strappy, pale pink heels with the most delightful flourish of feather puff at the heel. I imagine them to be the shoes that angels wear as they skip through the clouds… Sorry got a bit carried away then. The issue here though, is not to veer into Gaga territory. 

I recently wrote an article on 'Lizzie Mcguire' here, so whether that subconsciously influenced my newfound fondness for fluff (every outfit is topped with some form of fur/feather concoction). Or whether it's the contrast between the minimalism in structure (barely there strappy sandals, simple fold over clutch) and the kooky use of such tactile fabrics. I love a good juxtaposition. Like if Calvin Klein circa 1990s met Big Bird. Though the catalyst remains unbeknownst to me, it's a look that I'm practically sprouting feathers over myself to get a hold of. 

With winter fast approaching, nothing says 'buy me' more than a wearable hug in the form of some faux fur a la Peter Pilotto. Throw some feather in there for good measure or good luck or something. 

P.s Also nothing says I love you quite like a pair of fur encrusted sandals. Boyfriend please take note. I'm a size 6.

(Images via: gettyimages, eonline, whowhatwear)