[Cord trousers and cable sweater: H&M // Shoes: Faith (old) // Marc by Marc Jacobs bag and Gucci cat-eye sunglasses (c/o Shopbop)]
(OK, I know it’s October now (and boo hiss to that, I say!) but it was still September when these photos were taken (just), so the title still totally counts…)
This outfit was “inspired”, if that’s the word (and it isn’t) by my recent wardrobe switchover. Now, said switchover normally takes me aaaaalll day to complete: by the end of it, I’m a gibbering wreck, every floor in the house is littered with clothes, and the closets are all bursting at the seams.
Not this time.
Nope, this time I managed to pack away my summer clothes and replace them with the winter ones in a mere fraction of the time it normally takes me. “What happened?” asked Terry in surprise, when I joined him downstairs just a few short hours after I’d disappeared into a giant pile of clothing. Well, folks, I’ll tell you what happened:
Winter fashion happened.
See, when I opened the lid of the storage box containing the bulk of my winter wardrobe, I was confronted with a sea of black and grey. (Seriously, almost everything inside the box was one of those shades, and I have no idea why. I mean, it’s not like there’s some law stating that you HAVE to only wear dark colours during the winter, is there?) I was also confronted with a vision of the future [insert appropriately dramatic music here]: a future in which my clothes would be as dull and dreary as the winter skies, and my heart as heavy as the clouds above. A future in which I would write strange, overly dramatic blog posts about THE DARKNESS, and dress like a widow. GOD.
Well, I stood and stared into that storage box/future for a few seconds. Then I closed the lid, turned on my heel and walked away.
And then, a few minutes later, I snuck back and sheepishly started unpacking it anyway, because, well, I DID need some of the stuff in there, after all. Woman cannot live on pale colours alone. And also because I realised at that point that I don’t actually live inside a soap opera, and dramatic gestures are totally lost on Rubin, who was the only witness to these shenanigans.
Once I’d had a good look through the box, though, I did actually re-pack quite a bit of it, and send the dull, gloomy clothes back up to the attic, where they will spend the next few months
thinking about what they’ve done waiting to find out whether I’m going to change my mind and allow them a reprieve, or simply send them all packing to the charity store/great closet in the sky. Sucks to be them, huh?
Somehow I don’t think I’m going to miss those dark, wintry clothes, though. Especially not now that I’ve started to gradually replace them with lighter, brighter ones which are just as warm, but don’t make me look quite as much like a vampire. That’s why today’s post finds me wearing a warmer version of this outfit, from the summer. It’s also why I ate dinner that night with a tea towel tied around my neck, because head-to-toe cream/beige Amber? Really?
Finally, it’s why, before the night was out, those trousers had already taken their first trip through the washing machine. I’m pleased to report that the Mark of Death they acquired on that occasion was, indeed, vanquished, and the trousers live to
fight be worn another day.
I might have to re-consider the fate of some of the prisoners in the attic, though. Dark colours may be a tad depressing at times, but they sure have their uses…