Dear Old maxims of how we should approach style,
“Fashion fades, only style remains the same.” Or does it? Either I’m doing it wrong, or style can be more malleable than I’ve always believed.
There was a time in my life when I thought I would never own a piece of clothing that was patterned. Why would I, when a monochromatic palette met all my heart’s desires. I used to cringe at blue jeans. Scowl at the sight of a bodycon dress (that wasn’t Margiela or Rick Owens). And I could not stand the sight of anything printed. My boyfriend, the Internet, is full of anecdotes and pearls of wisdom regarding style, and how one should best approach it. But nothing justifies those bouts of insanity when you succumb to exterior influences, and think that a glitter body-con dress is the perfect addition to your monochromatic, drapey wardrobe. Taste can be shifted to and fro over time, but does an oddly clashing wardrobe indicate the lack of style? Have I succumbed to the pitfall of fading fashions?
I moved to Bondi over a year ago. It was a slow and gradual change. So incremental that I did not even realise the shift had occurred until I was deciding what to wear one day, and staring down at a drawer full of high waisted shorts. Denim, corduroy, spectacularly adorned with bright prints, brandishing bobble-adornments and snake skin glitter material were all in play. Where on earth had my classy black silk-cottons gone? Why I am no longer despising that girl walking down the road with blue jeans and flip-flops, but instead wishing that I too had left the house with my toes uninhibited by covered shoes?
I took stock of my wardrobe then and there. Sure – it’s not practical to be wearing leather jackets on 32 degree days, and there are only so many times you can wear platform boots to the beach before the locals start dreaming up colourful occupations for you in those shoes, but it’s impossible to deny, that like with many elements of life, your surroundings can greatly affect your inner style.
I say “inner style,” because although my day to day uniform had transformed into a pants-less printed mess, there were still certain things I could not bring myself to wear. A tee shirt too cropped, or a print too brash. I say “inner style” because although flamboyant, my new wardrobe pieces still seemed to fall within the realm of being ‘me.’ Was this just my style now?
Instead of accepting my fate, and throwing money at a wardrobe that screams “festival chic” year-long, I contemplated the situation. It’s hard not to be influenced by your surroundings, be it beautiful Bondi babes in ripped denim, or geographical factors like sand in your shoes 24/7. It’s okay to let this seep into your life. It’s unavoidable. While fashions do fade, indulging here and there in the fleeting can be a refreshing reminder of the things you will always love.
I don’t think that style is something that remains the same. Instead of trying to adhere to old maxims about style, we should all should embrace our inner GPS, and say “Yes!” to that glitter waistcoat, that neoprene bodysuit, that floral leather jacket, because isn’t style ultimately about seeing how far you can get away with something? For me it was how long I could go without putting pants on. I can feel the tides shifting, and as I’m reaching for my smart button up shirt and a blazer once again, I don’t apologise in the shift of my style priorities. Bobble-shorts, we had a good run – and I totally pulled you off.