I can’t begin to tell you just how cold it was the day we did this shoot; even the brass monkeys fecked off inside for a hot chocolate. After #TheBeastFromTheEast took its leave, I prematurely jumped at the chance to shake off the cabin fever and bask in the snowless sky. Rookie mistake. After Mother Nature took an unseasonal dump on our small island, she left us a parting gift of Baltic winds – the kind that slap you across the face, laugh and point when wearing anything besides YakTrax and a full-length Polar fleece-lined puffer coat.
Pleats are elitist. Fact. Their geometric rigour is designed to highlight and shame anything that doesn’t comply with their rigorous lines. As our girl Shakira put it, ‘The hips don’t lie,’ especially in the presence of a sharp knife fold. Ouch.
Maybe it’s the 70s child in me, always looking to her older sisters with their Dorothy Hamill centre-parted hair flicks and andro-hippie cool. Perhaps it’s a more ingrained rebellion against the prescriptive levity of the season. In any case, I prefer to channel ice-cream shades in a tailored suit and turtleneck – with an ice-cream and some shades. (See what I did there?)
Whether it’s a keepsake or an old reliable with an incomparable cost-per-wear ratio, the things that have us dialling 999 are those which we determine the true value of our wardrobe. The prospect of loss has a unique way of concentrating the mind which comes in handy when you find yourself moaning, ‘I have nothing to wear.’ Simply shout FIRE and you’ll soon find out what you really value.
Ignorance is not bliss – not in a happy closet. It creates a disconnect between what we buy and what we admit to having bought. OUT OF SIGHT may be OUT OF MIND but it also leaves you OUT OF POCKET… It’s time to take stock of your clothing collateral and confront the underlying behaviour that got you here in the first place.