Walk, walk, fashion, baby, sings Lady Gaga in her hit Bad Romance. What it means is beyond me (but I do like the song).
Fashion is and has always been an alien concept to me. Years of watching Project Runway have not exactly helped. When I browse WH’s for magazines, the fashion ones end up confusing me. I wouldn’t even know what’s on trend this autumn (I’m guessing feathers?).
I have my own personal style though. It’s based on years and years of not following trends/being overweight and only able to wear certain things.
Style was a particularly grating thing while growing up. Mum relishes in telling me that she used to dress me in expensive things, and made me the envy of other kids. Ask my arse, she did. My mother used to dress me like a lad, that’s what it was. I shit you not when I tell you that one of my class mates in second grade actually asked me if I was a lad.
My mother’s fondness for khaki and ribbed velvet did not rub off on me. From the time I hit sixth grade, I started the search for my personal style. I was chuffed to bits when I got my first pair of jeans, I tell you.
My weight hindered me though. I was in total denial, wearing things that were so tight, my belly showed at all times. It was not a pretty sight, and it was the start of feeling fashionably rubbish for over a decade. I was always the sartorial outsider. Which basically means I looked like a massive tit.
Then I piled on more weight, and trips to clothing stores became emotional battlefields.
The point is that fashion is not kind to overweight people. It kinda laughs in your face and flips you off. “Oh, YOU want to wear a lovely denim jumpsuit? NO YOU MAY NOT!”
The other point is that I’m still not keen on it. Even with all the changes in my life, I don’t like following trends. Magazines, ads, marketing, even television wants to push you to be on trend. You can wear what that one from that show wore on the red carpet! Aunty Gok wants you to have a capsule wardrobe! Dress like a goth without actually being one! It’s all stuff like that which gets on my tits.
But then again, fashion divides. It’s how it rolls. It’s controversy, it’s Marmite, it’s Fash, babe,
And we can do absolutely zilch about it.
Except… maybe we can. Maybe we can ignore the advice of the women’s glossies and just dress like we want to. So what if you want to just go about in leggings and a t-shirt? It’s okay. It’s you. You are allowed to have your own style, whilst ignoring whatever Trinny and Susannah bitch about these days.
That’s the fashion I like. The rebels who go against the grain.