Contrary to the amount of denim you’ll see me wearing on this blog, at heart, I’m strictly a frock kind of girl. Give me a comfy jersey maxi and I’m good to go. The draping on this All Saints dress is manufactured on the stand, so it nips and hugs in all the right places.
Confession. I have size 8 feet. Controversial it is not, until you consider I’ve been torturing my tootsies into size 7.5 shoes for a decade. Why? Because I have an absurd predilection that a size 8 grip on this great brown land, is clown feet territory for a woman of my diminished stature.
My can of crazy sauce isn’t exclusive to shoes, I’m also guilty of drowning my clothes in it. I’m a bone fide asshat of 34, 25, 36 proportions. Punishing myself, literally in vain, and looking like an overstuffed sausage as a result. In Freudian terms, there’s a polar disconnect between reality, and the woman frowning back at me in the mirror. I’m being held hostage by a pesky little number on a tag, and giving myself a mental uppercut when I can’t fit my jelly into the size I think I’m supposed to be. Sound familiar?
Which brings me to the Oprah ah-hah light bulb moment. Here’s the thing. Nobody knows I’m wearing a size 0, but everyone can see how ill fitting it is. And there aint nothing cute about a muffin top.
Consider the negative connotations attached to escalating digits. Age, weight, interest rates, blood pressure. IQ test scores aside, we’re inherently programmed to flinch at larger numbers. No wonder we find ourselves kangaroo hopping around the bedroom trying to squish into our skinny jeans. Or is that just me? Say it isn’t so.
To complicate the issue further, there is a massive disparity in sizing between stores and brands. Yet ironically, we blindly depend on those tags. Imagine a clothing store bereft of tags. Could you pick a garment off the rack that fits you just by looking at it? Do you have any idea of your true physical size? And most importantly, does size matter?
Hell to the no dot com.
Repeat after me. Size is irrelevant. Fit is everything.
Join the revolution and liberate your wardrobe. Cut off your tags and confront the mirror monster. How refreshing would it be to choose a garment by the way it hugs your vessel and not by a discriminate number? Go on. I dare you.
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Directions for use: Pick a pairing, add skinny jeans, conquer the world.
1. david lawrence cowl neck sweater
2. steve madden troopa boot
3. raoul multi stripe sweater
4. siren private ankle boot
5. dorothy perkins damask jumper
6. tony bianco averty bootie
7. helmut looped cotton sweater
8. frye paige tall riding boot
9. witchery raglan sleeve open knit
10. country road mena ankle boot
11. forever new hooded toggle cardigan
12. minnetonka tramper ankle boot
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These minnetonka booties (or as Mr Flashman calls them – Pocahontas shoes) are so ridiculously comfortable, that you’ll find it hard to stop at just one pair. I couldn’t resist. I also have the moccasin style. Think of them as “going out” slippers.
If you are a fan of Ms Hepburn you will love the book I’m reading in these photos. It is an illustrated biography containing removable reproductions of trinkets from Audrey’s extraordinary life – including an excerpt from the actual Breakfast at Tiffany’s script with her handwritten notes. Could you die?