a good hair day.......

 Shirt: Cotton On Mens / Pants: Sportsgirl / Shoes: Siren

I was having a really good hair day last Friday week. But I was too tired to appreciate it.

It got me thinking, later of course, after my brain and body had had time to sleep, about how often good hair and good sartorial choices seem to appear when we are thinking least about them.

Friday morning I so desperately wanted to crawl back under the covers and sleep for another twelve hours. Instead I got up and shuffled off to work. I happened to take a quick glance in my rear-view mirror and if not for the fact I was already parked, I probably would have crashed my car. Damn my hair was looking good. 

And damn I could hardly summon the energy to think that. I did tweet it though.

It's like that lazy Sunday afternoon when you throw on the closet things you can find, hoping to avoid all unnecessary human contact and spend the day reading and eating popcorn....oh is that just me?

Instead, what you find is every person who you see compliments your outfit. Because, of course, when trying to avoid human contact you find yourself, in fact, surrounded by members of the species.

It's like when you're not thinking about it, when you're not considering the chances of streetstyle fame, when you're not wondering if ADR would approve, you can actually get it so right. So you.

I haven't studied near enough psychology to work through this in any kind of real way. But here's my thoughts.

The less you think about it, the truer it is to you.

Simplistic? Yes. Somewhere in the vicinity of having some truth attached to it? Maybe. Will this new found realisation stop me standing half dressed in front of my wardrobe pondering what sits and hangs before me like it's my freakin' hobby? Yeah, nah. 

xx

*These shots are a re-enactment of sorts, too tired to take ones on the actual good hair day!

is this fate?........

Shirt: Vintage Yves Saint Laurent / Leather Skirt: Vintage / Shoes: Converse

I have this weird notion of fate when it comes to my sartorial choices.

Weird because I'm loathe to leave anything else in my life up to the whims of something so elusive, so devoid of concrete evidence of it's existence. Something that contradicts every logical thought that runs through my mind. Fate. What the hell is fate?   

But, like I can't help but feel strongly about tweed, I can't help but feel strongly about fate. Of the sartorial kind that is.

Because of this strength of feeling, I've been known to leave something behind, as a way of testing the very fate I believe so wholeheartedly in. I did it last week.

I fell upon a denim shirt. A men's one, (of course), with a yoke and collar of a tan suede. Sigh. And on sale. And I walked away. In hindsight, total dick move. But my supposition that if I'm supposed to have it I'll have it, gives me this kind of bravado.

Yes, I can walk away from perhaps the most important denim shirt of my life, (is that even a thing, can you have an important denim shirt, rhetorical question because the answer is yes), and know that if it's supposed to join the growing pile of shirts already in my life, it will.

It wasn't. I went back and it was gone.

At this point, without my ridiculous belief that fate rules my wardrobe, I'd be curled up in a corner somewhere sobbing.

I mean, suede yoke people, suede!

But I'm not. Because, you know, fate.

Luckily fate was on my side when I scored this (Y)SL shirt and vintage leather mini. They were, obviously, meant to be. 

xx