I have no clear sense of style and this bothers me. Mostly because I don't know what this means. Or if in fact this means anything at all. I look at various websites plying their wares and I want to buy it all. I want to be the Warehouse winter ethereal princess or the full on boho girl, the Topshop art student who dresses so individually yet so like a clone of every single teenager, I want to bury myself in the deceptively cheap products from H&M. I want everything at the moment, and whether this is due to having had no cash recently or if I have a deeply ingrained disorder, is a hard call to make. However the realist in me knows that, no matter how may high street purchases I own, like eating junk food I will never truly feel full and wholesome.
Spring/Summer 2009 is all about being yourself. Designers have drawn such vague lines that the high street may have trouble coming up with something concrete to copy. As designers play to their strengths to wait out the recession, the regular high street shopper can be safe in the knowledge that next season simplicity is key.
At Burberry there were bookish, Jane Austin reading academics in crumpled silks and draped cashmeres dreaming of romance. Louis Vuitton provided spunky world travellers wearing their beaded/tribal/leather finds (the type you can't get past Aussie customs) with rockstar hair and attitude to match. Sportswear was as always a spring summer staple, with Stella creating blazer and trousers all-in-ones, not great for aerobics, but perfect for watching Wimbledon.
The key image that came out from all the shows, despite the new minimal tribal futuristic old lady feel, was the truly basic. Dries Van Noten created gorgeous simple tailored clothes combined with one of a kind heirloom pieces in the form of a gold jacket and a floor-length gold skirt. No doubt this will spawn many high street copies that will look cheaper than usual and pale in comparison. So although there is no way I will probably ever be able to afford an "heirloom" item, the lesson I take from here is that keeping things simple and elegant goes a long way.
As the weather slowly turns towards the inevitable rainy and wet November I find that my feet are being swept away from under me. Literally. As I rush down the hill to the station my feet slip on the wet leaves no less than eight times, three of those seriously close to being You Tube “faceplant” moments. So in light of this I am seriously considering a footwear overhaul. My plain old flats are no longer holding their own against the elements, I need something much tougher.
Biker boots. Yes I know this is nothing new, this much has been pointed out to me at work. Everyone who wanted to tried this trend last year. Everyone has a pair. But as the story of slow burning trends goes (and if you needed any more convincing), they are back this season with absolutely nothing changed, added or taken away.
Gap have once again stocked their famous ankle length biker’s in black and brown. Gorgeous, sturdy and perfect for wearing with a knitted jumper or to add an edge to a delicate dress. Not to be worn with full on black and leather however, unless you are actually planning to get in with a motorcycle gang…
Go on you know you want to.
Writing something original is impossible. Every single intern in my position has the same hopes, fears and strops.
“Why don't they notice me?"
“Will I ever be as stylish?”
“Shall I forevermore be referred to as intern?”
And in truth I have realised how completely boring all this twenty something angst really is. I have no clear sense of style, but I won’t let this define me, one day maybe I will – but I live by the fact that sometimes my clothes work, and more often than not they don’t. It is all part of the eternal search for approval. I am not bigger than this place, nor am I the ironic insider I wish I could be. Because at the end of the day I am here because I desperately hope I can grow up to be just like them.
I know I should be dedicating myself night and day in the pursuit of becoming a writer, but I just can’t find my centre. I have become numb to the effects of anything around me, and despite being immersed in a culture in which I wanted to work for so long, I am finding it difficult to come up with ideas. Where before anything I came up with felt wonderful and original, now it feels like a been-done, old hat piece of non news. No matter, in the true nature of the English way, it shall be a case of onwards and upwards – writing through my writers block. And so I apologise to my phantom blog readers for there sometimes being nothing but drivel. If I cant get on my bike (in my case cross trainer) and lose a stone, then I shall at least write an entry a day to keep the brain cells alive (and have an excuse for being a fat-bottomed couch potato). Who knows, it might actually be fun...