Tag Archives: memories
I do love photographs
I have always loved photography. Some of my earliest memories revolve around hours spent studying the photographs tucked away in that big press in my sitting room. Pictures I featured in, pictures taken when I was just a twinkle in my fathers eye; it didn’t matter to me. Moments captured on film were just magical to me. They gave me an insight into things words never would have. Who knows; maybe that’s where I also developed my keen interest in fashion too; looking at the outfits that were so shockingly different to those I saw around me on a daily basis provided widened my eyes and whirled thoughts in my brain. Continue reading
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“Enjoy your school days, they’re the best years of your life”
I think there are three main kinds of chip-on-their-shoulder teachers. This particular one was the power kind- the one who likes to abuse their power and has traits such as never being able to admit when they’re wrong. This teacher freely admitted she hated first years. Other than that I must admit she was a good teacher, and she has been very interested to hear how I have been getting on since I was 13. But one day she told us all it was study time, we were to be quiet, picked out the longest page in the book, and told us that anyone who spoke would be given this page to write out. Fair enough. But a few minutes later the girl sitting next to me turned to me and said something. I tell no word of a lie when I say the teacher looked like a child at Christmas as she told us we both had the page to write out. I objected but my words fell on deaf ears. I walked home that lunchtime and talked to my parents about my day, as I always did, and the story of how despite the fact that I had not uttered a word, I got the same penalty as if I had, came up. My dad was indignant. Not long afterward he marched into the school and had a chat with the teacher about it. I was not given the page to write out but not without price. I don’t think it was out of the goodness of my teacher’s heart considering the next day having made mention to my not having done the work, she gave us a speech about how if we weren’t willing to accept responsibility for our actions that was fine by her. Continue reading
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My bag, my womanhood
Brown leather, light gold studs at the bottom, light gold round links to the straps, and the detail that made it MY bag rather than A bag; a big bow on the front. My boyfriend patiently accompanied me and gave opinions as I picked up bag after bag wondering, “is this me? Can I see myself bringing this to Reubens (my favourite café) to meet people for tea? Will I get the compliments I so shamelessly lap up? What would mom and Fiona (my big sister) think?” I very almost picked a red fake Prada bag but on my second day of looking I realized it would not fit all these criteria. It was far too gaudy, too out there; Samantha from sex and the city rather than Charlotte- who is much more my style. The red bag with its silver metal handle would insult my outfits rather than compliment them, and as already stated; miu miu was tailored for my age. Continue reading
Filed under Columns
