Feelings on Fashion - Blog entry (Just my thoughts out loud)

FEELINGS ON FASHION

I don’t have a uniform.

I never have.

I’ve always just loved what I loved —

whatever made me feel good.

Vintage, New Look, H&M, any department store, any brand.

It’s rare, like my Batsheva × Laura Ashley dress —

absolutely loved.

I have a Sister Mary dress from John Lewis I love.

Once, only for a few days,

I had a dress from John Lewis —

£350 — a birthday treat.

Beautiful, unique, but not worth the money.

Too much commitment.

The fabric didn’t justify the price.

So I returned it.

The John Lewis lady choked.

“Oh my, that’s expensive.”

Exactly — that’s why I’m bringing it back.

I think the brand was called something like Queen of Archives.

That red tiered dress — I loved it —

but it still went back. Its got to be worth it worth , wear commitment time and effort. I could not justify that would happen.

But then there was the floral one —

the Batsheva × Laura Ashley floral dress —

a chance buy,

and I’ve lived in it.

The combination of Laura Ashley and that vintage leaning Batsheva style —

made for me.

Sadly, a one off of this brand.

I’ve always wished I was a jeans person.

Jeans and a top.

I try.

I get the odd pair.

A wide leg one, maybe.

Trying to incorporate that uniform look —

but that’s not me.

Perimenopause and menopause changed everything.

Comfort became non negotiable.

Trust in a product became everything.

A big hug in a pant —

that’s what I need then, especially Peri.

I wore Lucy & Yak for a long time —

loved them —

but they got so big the sizing went wild.

Frustrating, when I wore them for years.

I high five them for comfort and movement,

for teaching me I could have an elastic waistband if I wanted one.

But I also want a proper waistband —

button, zip, firm denim —

so I know my size.

Not my weight — my size.

Because the clothes I love,

I want to stay in them.

Vintage sizing is off.

Maybe I’m vintage now, in my 50s.

Everyone bought the good vintage already.

Now it’s overpriced, or badly remade.

Too tight, too big, too wrong.

Online kills the dopamine —

you can’t touch the fabric,

you can’t trust the size.

We’re left with a handful of shops.

Charity shops used to source my wardrobe.

Now they’re full of SHEIN —

badly fitted, badly made,

TikTok Marketplace clothes worn once,

fast fashion ghosts that never had a life to begin with.

In the 80s the market was where you got the cool things.

Now? WHERE?

We’re left with a handful of shops.

I get the odd thing from John Lewis or M&S

that feels like fashion.

But I will not wear a tunic dress to the knee.

I will not wear the floaty middle aged silhouette

society says I should wear.

So what can I wear?

Where do I get my clothes?

I want unique,

but accessible.

I want flamboyance, comfort, fit,

a look I can love all day.

But the shops are gone.

I’ve run out of places.

I’m getting to the stage where I might have to make my own clothes.

A whole new ball game —

fit, fabric, choice,

not making the same dress over and over.

For years I’ve used accessories

to cover the fact I can’t find the clothes.

Half my wardrobe is denim —

the Canadian tuxedo era —

and the accessories do the work.

But that’s jeans and T shirt energy,

and I’m not that.

I can only wear a Canadian tuxedo in winter —

too much denim for my temperature.

I’m looking forward to summer —

vest tops and denim shorts —

giving myself time

to think about my sense of self,

where my wardrobe is going,

and who I want to be

and what I want to wear

to represent me.