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.
The thought of the pictures to come often crossed my mind. What would life look like when I would be in the photographs wearing radically different clothes? What kind of picture would they paint of MY life? Would people who were in my life then

be in my pictures for years and fashion changes to come? Which new characters would enter the frame? Finding pictures of my parents taken in a photo booth early in their relationship, I wondered; who would be the man in t

he photo booth with me? Continue reading


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“Enjoy your school days, they’re the best years of your life”

What is it with teachers and having chips on their shoulders? I know I begin with a big statement and, as always, I do not mean this as a broad sweeping statement applying to all in the field. Quite the opposite, I have had some very good experiences with teachers, some I even idolised; but it seems to me from some of my not so good experiences and from listening to the experiences of others that a high percentage of teachers seem to have some sort of chip on their shoulder that they then take out on students. Continue reading


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My bag, my womanhood

Today I took a step into womanhood. I bought my first grown up bag. I took it slow though, opting for a fake designer bag so as not to shock my wallet, opting for fake miu miu particularly as it is the young Prada and I am as of yet a young lady.

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.

On that second day when I went back into the shop selling my miu miu, I saw it and knew immediately. After gaining some perspective in the real world and taking a breather from wall to wall bags, my vision was clear. Although I know when the label said “coffee” it meant the colour and nothing else, it seemed a sign that for the next number of years this bag was going to be my complimentary companion in one of my favourite activities: coffee shop chatting. I loved it because looking at it that night in Bulgaria I knew that it was timeless and ageless. I bought it today but it’s the kind of bag I could imagine my mom wearing when I was a few feet tall, picking up my first fashion tips, and it’s the kind of bag I could still imagine her wearing today. But I could imagine my sister wearing it and I could most definitely see it on me.

My mother has always been and remains my biggest fashion icon. Some of the items in my wardrobe were not only influenced by her, they WERE hers. I have two particular items that were hers and whenever I wear either of them I get the same reaction: compliments and surprise. One is a top she just gave me to wear one night and the other is a Marilyn Monroe bag she was going to throw out in a clear out of her wardrobe before I objected. Compliments because they’re such fabulous items of course and surprise because no one can ever believe a mother of someone my age would have such style (or in the case of the bag, that anyone would cast it aside!). But I’m lucky that way, mine does. Of course before you start jumping to the conclusion that my mother is mutton dressed as lamb I must correct you. She is the epitome of the fact that reaching your fifties does not leave you with the choice of beige, brown and baggy or, as previously mentioned, mutton dressed as lamb.

Seeing as miu miu is came from Prada, and is known as Prada’s little sister, it seemed only fitting that I bring Prada back for my big sister and my stylish mother. My step into womanhood was cemented. I had arrived.

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