Another year, another mailbox that didn’t get filled with invites to New York Fashion Week. Hopefully this time next year I’m there getting photographed and not writing about it from my basement bedroom in Australia. I guess a girl can dream.
In the interim I’ll stick to doing what I do best - scrolling endlessly through street style galleries and identifying the trends. Although I’m still salty that I was left off many a guest list, I am excited about some of the fun trends to come out of the week. Let’s commiserate together as we read through them below. Also I’ve been feeling extra nostalgic recently so if you don’t like personal anecdotes this article probably isn’t for you. Check out this one instead.
I have odd associations with Mary-Janes. For a brief period when I was in middle school, before the principal amended the uniform guidelines, Mary-Janes had their hey day. They became incredibly popular; probably because they were really the only way of expressing some form of femininity within the polyester sacks we were required to don. I absolutely adored my pair. They had a teeny, tiny stacked heel and I love the way it clinked on the cement walking to and from class. I pretended I was a corporate power woman clip-clopping to important meetings. This was until one fateful day walking to school mass. My school was too poor to have its own church so each class had to make the trek to our local parish. When crossing one of the freshly painted pedestrian crossings my beloved mary-janes betrayed me and sent my feet flying out beneath me. Not only did I flash my knickers to most of the school, I was also left with a big bruise on my bum.
To this day I wonder if my unfortunate instant was the catalyst for the change in the uniform criteria. Honestly it would be rather fitting if that were my legacy. I think it would be a fine reflection of who I am - clumsy and favouring fashion and femininity over practicality.
Fortunately I now have the autonomy to invest in a pair that don’t have to meet guidelines AND have the foresight to invest in a sturdy heel. A way to embrace fashion and femininity without sacrificing my tailbone? Yes please.
These seem like a bit of a music festival staple and believe me I’m not yet fully on board. However I’m obviously a sheep at heart because seeing their popularity at NYFW has almost convinced me to buy one. Like silver, they’re an amazing accessory as they will reflect whatever colour your wearing and completely complement your outfit. I also love the juxtaposition of such a novelty, cheap looking material being paired with some designer garbs.
I remember in my first ever social studies tutorial my teacher pointed out something that still, to this day, blows my mind. Australian school uniforms are reflective of the professions expected of the students - in private schools the students dress proper and wear corporate-like, high end suits, whereas in public schools the students wear polos and sports shorts - like tradesman.
Since hearing this and grappling with my own working class background I’ve had a love-hate relationship with polos. Do I want to embrace them, although it may seem like I’m betraying my heritage and ashamed of it? Or can I still be proud of my background and wear a garment traditionally not designed for someone of my calibre?
I like to think the former, if not because it’s more freeing, but at least because it’s more fashion forward. Reasonable length sleeves AND a collar - these are the perfect addition to your summer wardrobe. Say bye bye melanoma and hello haute couture!
Throughout primary school I had a best friend named Madison Turner, her mother was widely renowned for being the queen of craft. I have no idea what possessed me but I was determined to dethrone her. Unbeknownst to this forty year old woman I was in a war with her to facilitate the most fun DIY projects amongst my peers. I believe I achieved this the day of my eighth birthday party when I taught my counterparts how to tie dye. Everyone left with their own uniquely dipped t-shirt and Madison’s mother’s head hung in shame - or at least that’s the way I remember it.
I wouldn’t revisit tie dye again until I was 17 and I went through my crystal/yoga/om tattoo phase. Since then I’ve steered well and truly clear of it, trying to assimilate to my metropolitan Melbourne peers and simply donning black.
Now that I’m developing more confidence and giving less of a shit, perhaps it’s time to revisit this unique fabric. Although I don’t know whether it will aid in my attempts to ensure strangers cease assuming I’m a weed dealer (thank you dopey voice and persistently blood shot eyes).
As a child my most favourite past time was playing dress-ups - who’s surprised? One of my favourite items to play with was a long leather, pastel pink coat one of my mother’s ex-boyfriends had purchased for her. He was her only serious relationship before she met my father and I often fantasised about what my life would’ve been like had she married him instead. I mostly loved indulging in this because he was a veterinarian and I loved to tell myself if he was my father I’d have a million pet pigs and puppies at my avail. I now realise that’s a little unrealistic and am grateful for my own father (obviously I copped some decent genetics); however I can never stop thinking about her pink leather coat.
I hadn’t considered actually adding one to my own wardrobe until earlier this year, when my boyfriend and eternal muse purchased one for himself. Seeing these now pop up a few months later at NYFW has cemented what I already knew: 1) this is a staple wardrobe piece 2) my baby is in fact every bit as much a fashionista as the bloggers I idolise; although it pains my stubborn ass I should take his advice more often.