Yes, really.
Torn up jeans again? Really?
Yes, really.
Since finally investing in some sweet white Converse a few weeks ago, I have to say they’ve taken centre stage round here. I’m finding myself reaching for them again and again, they’re simple, they go with everything and they’re comfortable.
Last week one of my new favourite bloggers, Gab from Look Sharp, Sconnie, (seriously if you haven’t already, check her out, girl can write!) posted about the possibility of our sartorial choices becoming more simplified as we get older. Hitting the, (mental), speed bump that was my twenty seventh birthday last month it struck me while reading Gab’s post that I was in fact closer to the end of the supposed experimental twenties than I was to the beginning.
I wondered as I approach that seemingly terrifying milestone, thirty(!!), would my supposed young and carefree nature melt away and be replaced with a mature mind that bought basics like candy and skimmed right over the torn up denim and mens tees that seem so prevalent in my life now. See above.
Or does the fact that I've finally purchased these go with everything Converse mean that this slow metamorphosis is already taking place? Next to go the torn up denim?
I’ve always though of myself as a little experimental. Perhaps not in the way of the inimitable ADR or Susie Bubble, but in my own way, tucked away in my own corner of the world. And I have a wardrobe full of ‘statement’ pieces that can attest to that. Sequined blazers, lace shorts, gold high waisted skirts, yes, tick and check. And while these little style experiments may not have always worked they have helped to hone what I guess is a sense of style that is all mine.
But, outside the crazy twenties, would I actually get fed up with the world that I spend so much time engrossed in?
Would I really do away with those neon pink peep toes booties?
Would my beloved and decadent family jewels suddenly be irrelevant amongst a wardrobe full of black and white?
For me style is an evolutionary concept, not a static one. So the chances of me hitting thirty and locking in a set of sartorial preferences and holding solid from that point on are probably comparable to the chances of me going to space. That would be slim to none. Which means the answers to all my own rhetorical questions are no, maybe when I'm ninety five and never.
That said I’m certainly not about to try and predict the future, I’m short a crystal ball for one thing. And there is always the possibility that I'll decide to become an avant garde hippy and wear Comme des Garcons and Isabel Marant exclusively. Either way, I do hope that mens threads and torn up denim never stop being a part of my life regardless of which side of thirty, or forty, or fifty I fall.
Thoughts??
xx
