Teenagers are like another species to me now. They aren’t the kind we were. The other day I spotted a group of little teen girls ( who were probably taller than me in reality ), venturing into the city on their exciting school holiday shopping adventure. All 3 in a row wearing their Doc Martens and ripped boyfriend jeans with oversized cardigans. The allure of a group, the subset. Matching to a tee but not being ashamed of it. Individuality is barely a dream, or even a thought that flits across the mind. When now I could think of nothing worse than only hanging out with people who wore exactly the same jeans, with the same choker, and the same black boots. It’s all about the diversity.
The subsets seemed to die in the early 0000’s, at least in my limited life of suburbia. The only genre that applied was “dag”, everyone looking generally terrible in school groups. Sadly this was my identification ( or was it normcore at it’s finest? ). Poor-fitting flared jeans, surf brands, and sports jumpers with Converse sneakers ( the only slight cool factor ).There had to be some girls out there looking fabulous, but alas, this was not I. I had to wait to grow into my style, even though I had an innate love of clothing and fashion designers – worshipping Collette Dinnigan from the age of 11.
Maybe it was better that way. You know you lived a true childhood when you look back at photos and cringe at the awful outfits / braces / glasses. There was no glam, no designer childrenswear, or even trend-driven options for the teenies. We all need some embarrassment on 21st birthdays anyway. Cool kids of today, sorry, but your birthday speeches are going to be ridiculously boring. Should have just shopped at Target.
Elena Kholkina cleverly captures the spirit of the Russian teen in her images – as every teen in the world. I couldn’t tell you if that was her intention, but it screams through loud and clear to me. Moments of joy and spontaneity, contrasted with times of thought, reflection and sombreness. Out to find their place in the world ( and as I’m learning, who, of any age, has actually found it yet? ).
(Images from here)
Recently I’ve started a new ritual. It’s called “old lady hannah” – slightly worrying that it’s already come to this at the age of 24. Basically, I sleep, nodding off at a reasonable time to get up at a ridiculous time. I actually get my 7 hours in which is a close miracle considering my usual lack of shut-eye.
For half an hour before the lights-off moment my goal is to step away from technology, snuggle with a book, and release my mind into another world. The result is usually a baby-like sleep, only woken by the blare of the alarm ready for gym-time. It took me a long time to listen to those technology-free preachers, but they are right, it makes all the difference. Dare you to try – let me know your results too.
The Giambattista Valli Couture 2016 collection is the stuff of dreams. If you have trouble sleeping surely those puffs of white ( via some accentuated sleeving ) and gentle frills will put your mind to ease. Instead of counting sheep or clouds in troublesome times, let’s count billowed dresses and endless white ruffles. It can only lead to beautiful dreams as well, making for the most relaxed, princesssy sleep ever.
(Images from here)
When you are waiting for life to kick into gear but it just doesn’t seem to want to happen. Emotions. Everything is going at different paces right now – my mind running with one million things a second, looking for every new opportunity to pounce on, but life? Well she has other plans it seems, that are completely incongruent with what I want and those endless thoughts. So we end up at this awkward, not-so-fun stage of lostness. Stuck in between and no door out in sight.
I’m not sure that discontentment is ever a good thing – the push to change is often positive, but when things stay the same, we head down the path of depression and negative thoughts towards just about everything. Then there’s the discouragement that eats away at any self-worth in existence, like the hungry caterpillar it just doesn’t stop. The biggest problem is that this is all a lie, a trick of the mind, so difficult to break out of. We do have so much, we are so lucky, we can dream about doing great things, and sleep warm at night – it just requires a moment to take a step back sometimes to realise and remember.
I felt it coming on hard today, as soon as those tired eyes were shocked awake. My short term solution – get Leandra’s voice going on in my ears. I always seem to turn to those ( successful ) women I look up to, encouraging my dreaming and happiness again. And you know what? Generally it delivers, and that’s a good stat for someone who can easily get caught up in those incessant downcast thoughts. So I’m not beaming with hope again, but at least I can get through the day with some sense of positivity, thinking about all the things out there that can be done (and I have no idea how to do – app builders, please come talk to me, we need to have a serious conversation ).
Then I stumbled onto this life-changing, all-inspiring online goddess – Intent Journal. Brain in over-drive. I got lost in the rabbit-hole of fashion sustainability. Let’s just focus on one more great label to kick off. Thursday, Sunday. These girls have blown it all out of the water and reminded me you don’t actually need a strict fashion background to get into the business of beautiful clothing. What they’ve achieved is creating simple, pared back looks that challenge the norm and associations of sustainable pieces. It’s structured and boxy, introducing elements of current trends, like the one-shoulder thing and fronted zips, without the Alexander Wang price tag. The label isn’t just about the clothes, it’s the whole movement of slow fashion, swaying us as consumers to consider and research and wisely choose who we do purchase from. Using those things called our brains a little more, and resisting that instant appeal of the impromptu shopping trip. Your mum would tell you to eat slowly, so do the same with your clothes.
(Images from here)
Now that I’m in a job that doesn’t occupy my mind non-stop, at least 8 hours every day ( not including the work-related nightmares / dreams ), I actually have time for Google. We’ve become best buddies. This is a somewhat dangerous thing, and hopefully only occurs when you are in an office with minimal humans to talk to. Next stage of life will be independent of search engines one hopes.
Previously I used Google as a means to answer my very brief, general questions every once in a while – a simple definition here and there. Google’s place in my life has escalated rapidly. I’m constantly searching whatever strange concept and question pops into my mind – Wiki has become my friend and trusted advisor, as have the many strange online community threads out there. I’m lost in space world – turned to the online guru instead of chatting it out with living beings. I listen to internet trolls and ranters, those old folk who seem to have nothing better to do than complain publicly – embarrassing themselves more than the hated brand.
Just some of the random oddities appearing in my recent history:
– How do I see my Google search history ( yes, I did check this one just to make sure all my facts were right for you. Google delivered. ).
– How to welcome a new housemate ( not very helpful FYI. My own genius thoughts are way better. Sorry Google, but I don’t think revealing our most embarrassing moments will create a life of housemate bliss ).
– Checking just about every strange email address that comes through in the hope that Google will immediately answer my ‘is this spam?’ question ( somewhat successful ).
– Should I drink kombucha? ( important one. Answer = yes, maybe. So I’m going to give the Single Origin on tap variety a go one boring lunchtime ).
– Aligning brackets in word ( damn word processing life ).
– Can frozen bread make you sick? ( this may just be a sickness-in-my-head case but I swear that increased water content is not happy-making for my body. Internet lost this one though. No solid answers in sight ).
– How to follow up an email introduction ( #lifeskills ).
If only a Google search resulted in a wardrobe with some of these babies also. A money tree, but online, and for clothes. It’s all about the big bold patterns today.
(Images from 1, 2, 3, 4)
I have a growing list of half-started blog posts that are begging my attention and some love. By the end of July my goal is to have all these completed for your lovely eyes, and my over-active brain. Some peace to allow room for more bits and pieces that are rattling around in there.
For now, this post-weekend-away Sunday evening, it’s necessary to collect some winter style inspiration for the week. My layers are running out of differentiation. My poor boots are growing tired of being worn day in and day out.
This shoot is everything I want for the rest of winter – a mix of knits, greys, whites, flowing, fitted, layered. Give me six more Uniqlo turtlenecks ( one for every day of the week ) and I will be set.
(Images from here)
I’ve been introduced to some really cool girls via Instagram and the general social-sphere, particularly those of the uniquely styled, big personality sort. They are the true style queens, flaunting all they’ve got and proudly piecing together outfits with attitude. One of these is Micaela Verrelien.
Any girl who can rock an American flag one-piece in public, then publish it on Instagram, is truly a hero. She’s curvy and real, with the greatest sense of individual style, evidently an amazing wardrobe, and a real gift for the gif ( they make me so happy every time a new dancing diva is posted ). Nothing is off-limits – side boob looks classy, socks and pumps appear all smart and work-y. Everything tight in all the right places ( which I so quickly avoid like the plague every shopping day ).
Give me your confidence, pls, and that shoe collection. Be my style mother / sister. I’m not sure what I can offer in return though, because every dreamt skill is already accomplished by far. Here are just a few images that illustrate why I love her :
(Images from here)
You would expect me to love clothes shopping, thrive off the buzz of the purchase and new items collected. Reality is quite the opposite, in the most frustrating ways. My love of fashion regularly does not extend to the store. Something needs to be done about those fluorescent fitting room lights and tight spaces for starters. I just come out miserable, racing for the exit to get a breath of fresh air and sunshine.
The primary factors in my hate relationship –
1. The clothes. What you want never looks good, or good enough in my head. Why, jeans, can’t you just call my name to the right pair and I walk away drifting on a cloud? Or I come in with a mental image of exactly what I want. It’s never there.
2. The worthiness. This is the greatest current battle. I am in possession of a voucher with the most significant amount I have ever had absolute freedom to spend on whatever I like. But what piece is worthy of this spend? Which constantly-dreamed-about label do I go with? I have an issue with waste of all kinds so don’t want to throw this opportunity down the drain, which just adds to the overall pressure.
3. The crazy. People everywhere, in your face, bags everywhere, change room lines.
4. It’s cold. Who wants to get undressed in this weather anyway.
So instead of coming away with a glamorous new find I bought a magazine. My easy fix without fail. Until I start my own wonder emporium stocked full with the best of the best – short-legged girls more than welcome.
(Images from 1, 2, 3, 4)