|"Hey you, leopard legs!" Aaargh....|
When I worked as a stylist, as a way of rustling up some good money fast to set up my own business, I was fortunate enough to work with some decent bands who quite honestly did not need any styling. Supergrass, Coldplay, Matthew Jay, Turin Brakes and Divine Comedy were just a few, none of whom are wardrobe entourage heavy but the record companies couldn't help themselves, at a time when there was a whole lot of budget given over to a whole lot of image. I remember receiving endless calls from panicky record company juniors telling me how they didn't want a band to look but never any references to what they were gunning for. Great. I could see the musicians coming out in hives at the thought of meeting a stylist and me, the stylist was already apologising for the prospect of telling them what to wear. In the end I just went shopping for them. I could see what their personal preferences were and like a well meaning female friend I simply edited out any penchants for long leather coats or ill fitting jeans. No-one ever had a freaky style transformation and everyone was happy. These boys were musicians. They didn't need to be Gaga'd to be appreciated.
What I have come to find as I get a little older is that personal style is a wonderfully liberating thing and you don't have to be a fashion lover to have it. Know what you like and don't worry about Gok Wan's opinion. If he had his way I'd be walking around town with my "baps out and strutting those leopard legs"! Stick someone in something they are not comfortable in and the clothes wear the wearer. Around our neck of the woods, in trendy Dalston zone, there may be a sea of young style types but an awful lot of it is so self-conciously fashion that I don't see them as individuals. They are a mass of fashion, all wearing the same current trend as their uniform and morphing into one big clump of boringness. Shrunken jumpers, kids duffle coats and geeky glasses. It all looks cold and uncomfortable. No wonder they all seem so glum.
So next time I'm caught in a mad-dash must-buy moment I will take a second to weigh up the number of lesbian-fishing-top outings the garment will require to survive my alarm bell ringing head. More than two and I'm running the same way as Asa! I'm not from Sheppy you see and I'm married. To a man.
|My trusty seafarin' beauty. And Jessie.|