I have had more fashion faux pas that I can count. Styles that looked fashion fabulous in my imagination, but seriously questionable in reality. But I guess that’s half the fun, experimenting and exploring what works and what really doesn’t even if you really, really want it to.
I have always been in awe and admiration of people that embrace their individualistic fashionista with brave and free abandon.
Unfortunately I am not one of those people.
In hindsight, I am amazed I wasn’t arrested by the fashion police for crimes against fashion and for public indecency for subjecting the unwitting public to my outfits. I mean once you see it, you can’t un-see it.
There was the time I tried a puffball skirt. Let’s just say they’re cute on children, not on me. Then there was a time I wore a dress that can only be best described as a cross between cowgirl and milkmaid. It was ruffled around the bust or in my case my fried eggs as my mother liked to call them. Buttons all the way down to my ankles, yellow and gingham. You just can’t get dresses like that anymore but I loved it. I also had this jumper that was grey and had numerous cats on it, bright pink ones oh and shoulder pads. I might have even worn that one with a butterfly belt. You know, those wide belts that clipped in the front, the clasp decorated with an ornate…you guessed it, butterfly! Oh how I loved a butterfly belt.
My mother was a keen knitter, so I accumulated a variety of brightly coloured jumpers that I would match with the rest of my outfit. I thought I was the bee’s knees, but the photos beg to differ.
I once seriously lusted after a luminous reversible jacket, which I did eventually buy. One side was sensible black and the other looked like a rainbow had got drunk and vomited all over it. I proudly wore that in public and I am not talking about the black side.
I had a favourite jacket, a denim jacket. I know what you’re thinking that’s not so bad. Wait for it. I decorated the front of the jacket with numerous different badges and got my mother to stitch on the biggest smiley face patch I could find onto the back of it. I didn’t get why random people would shout “Acciiiiiid” at me in the street.
I even embraced the oversized man trend with dedication before it was on fashion. For some reason, I thought wearing my dad’s shirts was cool. Except my dad is 6 foot something and large. I looked like I was wearing hand me downs that were too big for me. I also had the biggest, baggiest denim dungarees which I thought I was bad ass in (I wasn’t). For the record, these were not my dad’s. I’ve never seen my dad in jeans, let alone dungarees. Just thinking about my dad in this makes me chuckle.
I’ve worn colourful sari tops with a bare midriff…in public. Platform shoes with flared trousers, which are great until your shoes get stuck in the flare and you fall over. I had a selection of shapeless sheer tops, obviously only in black or white. It was my “strike a pose, there’s nothing to it. Vogue” outfit.
Oh and I did dress like I was an extra in a pop / hip-hop / RnB video. Sweatshirts over shirts, vest tops and short skirts with knee high socks and beanie hats, slogan tees, gold off the shoulder tops and black. A lot of black.
I flirted with the ripped jean…but only because I accidently actually ripped my jeans. This one didn’t last long, because I kept getting my foot stuck in the rip turning it into a giant hole. I gave it up because my knees were cold.
If nothing else, it has been fun figuring out my fashion identity. I still love going shopping and trying the latest trends, it makes me laugh out loud but sometimes, just sometimes I discover a new look…until the next time.
*There are no fashion faux pas pictures in this post because, well the internet is forever!