I’ll never forget the time I had my introduction into Primary School.
I was shown around my new ‘big school’, and after the tour had finished I politely asked the teacher where the dressing up box was for break times.
When she replied that there was no such thing at this new ‘big school’, the tears of shock began.
In fact, if I’d had known expletives back then my reaction may have been “are you fucking joking!”
I’d spent my primary years building a good portfolio of looks out of that dressing up box, and to think my efforts were just about to go to waste made me feel sick to the stomach, (not to be over dramatic or anything).
In those precious break time moments, I could be a princess, a pirate, a cow girl or everything at once!
It was exhilarating at how just an item of clothing could make you think and feel completely different, whether I knew at the time or not.
During my childhood I was a big advocate of dressing up – and much to my poor mums distress her wardrobe was constantly under siege from my sticky fingers and lipstick smeared face.
And even now the eclectic style I’d managed to pick up in my early days hasn’t waned as adult, in fact it’s probably just become more ‘appropriate’.
I still get over-excited about anything that sparkles, and I’m a strong believer that clashing colours is a style statement rather than an example of poor fashion choices.
And I hold my head up high that fifty percent of my wardrobe probably still resembles that of a five year olds dressing up box.
But I’ve come to the realisation that as adults we don’t have any fun with our choices of clothes any more, and to put it bluntly there’s not much to choose from in the first place.
Putting aside the fact the stores are already full of maroon and grey despite the fact summer isn’t over. The high street is just full of fun-zapping clothes that make me feel like I’m in mourning for my youth.
Sod the beige and the boring browns, I want COLOUR!!
When I was little I used dream about the day I could buy lots of ‘princess dresses’, yet here I am with an income spending it on bills and clothes that spark zero joy.
I look around at the children’s collections on Boden and Zara and get serious fashion envy, the seem to be having all the fun!
Why do all the pompom, overly tasselled, sparkly fun clothes have to be limited to the age of 12?
What happens after that? Are we meant to conform to dressing like a real grownup?
And when I mean a ‘real grownup’ we all know what I mean?
Those who have resorted to the comfortable orthopaedic shoes rather than risk achey feet in heels. The ones who buy things to ‘cover up’ and hope their non existent bloat can be hidden, and those who ban all colour from their lives as if it’s done them a terrible injustice in the past. What’s the colour spectrum ever done to you?
Well screw that!
If you want to start wearing those cow girls boots that have been collecting dust at the back of your closet, then sling them on.
Who’s going to stop you? You’re a badass grownup now and you can where what you want.
I’ve made it my personal mission to only buy clothes that evoke a delirious childlike reaction and fill me with so much joy I don’t want to take it off.
We all remember that giddy feeling of getting a new item and loving it so much that you insisted to your parents that you should also wear it to bed? Well that’s exactly how I want to feel when I buy something new.
Goodbye to practicality, goodbye to boring. If my inner five year old doesn’t go crazy at the thought of it, you won’t be hitting my shopping cart any time soon.
Life an an adult is dull and boring enough as it is for us all to condemn colour from our lives completely.
Unfortunately, it’s quite clear to me that the high street is yet to get the memo, so whilst they realise that not everyone wants to dress like they’re at a funeral, I’ll continue to purchase children’s clothes.