When I look back on old interviews I did about my style, way back when this blog was in its infancy and Instagram didn’t exist (hard to believe, I know), I used to say that I like my outfits to have an element of surprise to them. I remember at the start of my teen years, reading a Vogue article about two editors debating whether minimalism or maximalism was better. I’ve always liked the idea of simplicity but I think that the evolution of my style has stemmed from my early dedication to the maximalism movement. Slowly as I learnt to adult, sometimes prioritising comfort over the sake of shock factor, combined with the force of ‘effortless minimalism’, I’m somewhere comfortable in between.

But it was bloody hard to get there and the greatest obstacle to overcome was the issue of conformity. Whilst I’m starkly aware that there are so many others out there that dress way more exotically, growing up, I was the peacock in the flock of flamingoes.

When I started sixth form, I was freed from the shackles of my hideous uniform but unlike others, I didn’t exchange my kilt and 50 denier black tights for skinny jeans. Instead, I wore cropped blazers, peter pan collars and if it was sequinned, I had to have it. It wasn’t until university that I owned a pair of Converse. It was quite obvious that my look didn’t fit in with the other 17 year old girls that wore a combination of Uggs (just no), cute cashmere jumpers and Abercrombie and Fitch. When I arrived at school one morning in a t-shirt and denim, convinced that I had finally found the answer to dressing my age and how to get people to stop calling me ‘posh’, a word I detest to this day, I was faced with the same question from three different people: “Are you sick?” And all because I was wearing jeans.

The message here, people, is that if you doubt your style, others will too. Live your vision, even if it’s not anyone else’s.

American Apparel dress

Zara top and bag

Staccato shoes


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