Dark dressing for dark times. Period.
Navigating what to wear when bleeding + my model characters.
I’ve been sat on this idea for a while and I feel as though it’s time to let it surface, to let the idea meet the page/screen rather than keep it whirring on the running track of my mind. If it’s a thought I return to a lot then it’s got to stick with someone I guess? It feels a little silly to write about what to wear to what occasion because pfft, anyone can wear whatever they want whenever they want. But I need all the help I can get at that time of the month, so here’s a little pocket of period style. Chuck it, challenge it, copy it. I don’t care. But please always do carry extra tampons and sanitary pads, if not for yourself then for that desperate woman who always forgets (me).
If there’s anything I’m certain on in my life it’s personal style. I absolutely adore getting dressed. It’s the closest to nailing a mathematical equation I will ever get to. (Can a mathematician please tell me what their ‘aha!’ moment feels like? I wonder if we both reach the same elation?) Of course there are times when my bedroom floor could be mistaken for a burglary, when I can’t do the fashion maths. I’m by no means saying I’m hella stylish, but I do know what suits me and what doesn’t, which inevitably means what makes me feel good and what doesn’t (insert maths).
I’ve had 15 dedicated years of service (half my life!) as a clotheshorse so I know clothes. I’ve worn more clothes I dislike than I like in my time. Often what I’m paid to sell you couldn’t pay me to wear, nevertheless it’s fun to embody someone else for a few hours. At the end of the working day I always delight in shrugging off these other characters and slipping on my familiar friends, my own clothes.
The characters I often get paid to channel look something like this:
Catherine = well educated and wants you to know it. Wears expensive clothes with no labels visible but visibly wants you to know they’re expensive. Loves a statement earring and a blow dry. She feels like a slut when she wears no top under her blazer on date night and loves it. But under those Me and Em trousers is in fact an incredibly sensible pant. In a crisis you call Catherine. Her style icon? Trinny Woodall.
Suzannah = a 365 day a year boho flexitarian who calls everyone Pickle. You can hear her jangling bracelets and charms before you see her. She favours ethical brands, kefir, b corporations, retreats and Glastonbury - the only five days of the year she’s actually in her home country. She changed the spelling of her name as a child and is still seeking her identity. If you need travel tips or advice on gut health call Suzannah. Her style icon? Stevie Nicks by way of Monsoon.
Kitty = loves animals, would probably rather be married to one than her floppy haired/soon-to-be floppy chinned husband Gerald. Comfort is key. Kitty asks for a new knit and an Emma Bridgewater mug for every birthday and Christmas. Kitty has phenomenal legs from all of her active British outdoor pursuits. You’ll find her pins encased in a muddy skinny Topshop Jamie jean for all to see. If you need a dog sitter or a glass of savvy b on a Monday night, call Kitty. Her style icon? Rivals by way of Claire Balding.
Lila = talks an ickle bickle like a baby whilst assisting stylists/mixing demos/making content, pottery and matcha. Lila lives in tracksuit bottoms, a Dover Street market special trainer, an exes leather bomber jacket, a teeny tiny top, lots of jewellery with lots of words on them. More literature can be found on her body too, littered in tattoos of forgettable (did someone say regrettable?) memories. If you get locked out of your social media accounts or need a website designing call Lila. Her style icon? Early 2000s Lily Allen.
Jessica = is hyper as hell and talks a mile a minute. She’s perky and has a perky ass to match. Her underwear is as cheerful and vibrant as she is. She’s a team leader and organises all the work do’s. She run’s marathons “just for fun” and somehow has four kids at home. She buys exclusively from John Lewis: clothing, candles and cake. Tick, tick, tick. Bish bash bosh. If you need something done, call Jessica. Her style icon? Anyone on The One Show.
In reality my style centres upon uniform, a literal play on school meets work uniform consisting of some sort of smock dress, a shirt, trouser, blazer combo, sometimes all three at once. The key is that I have to fuck it up a bit. Full uniform is icky, a bit too on the nose. I oscillate hypothetically between Thom Brown tailoring, Miu Miu coquettishness and Simone Rocha punk princess. Alas only Simone actually lives in my wardrobe via Vinted or their holy sample sales. I have been known to queue 3 hours to get my mitts on her gracious designs. Reader, it was well worth it.
Here are my current style equations:
Severe scraped hair + big flouncy dress + stompy shoes + a smattering of bows = wickedly playful.
Slick rick suit + bedhead hair + smudgy make up + a controversial shoe = corporate ho.
They both simultaneously play on femininity and masculinity and I relish the perverse freedom of playing with the paradoxes.
Sidenote: I adore how Claudia Winkleman writes about clothes. Hard recommend her book Quite. I love it so much that I got my brother-in-law to read an extract from it on our wedding day.
When I’m wearing something a little WTF?, a pinch OTT for the occasion, when I can hear my heels clacking the pavements, or a turned up collar rubbing the back of my neck, or a hat jauntily planted atop my tresses, my senses come alive. I’m brimming with positivity, excitement and wonder. Now that’s the sign of a good outfit.
But hold up.
My period arrives (queue the opening scene of Four Weddings And A Funeral, “fuckety fuck fuck”) and all my usual style references are muddled. I feel shit, my body resembles the third trimester and I can’t summon the energy to walk to the supermarket let alone get dressed.
There are two stand out moments in my life when I didn’t know what to wear. One of them was my wedding day. The other is ongoing and it’s when I’m on my period. Thank the lord I wasn’t menustrating when I got married. That would have been an almighty personality crisis. In fact, my husband and I even organised our wedding around it not clashing with my time of the month. See evidence.
Here I am 3 days before my wedding in agony at work on the final day of my period. I was sick on the train on the way in that morning, sweated through my woollen winter coat and had to cancel on my best friend’s 30th birthday dinner that night as I felt too faint to go. I’m not showing this vulnerable image of me for sympathy but to be honest with you. It’s not all cute outfits and smiles. It’s a week of the month, that’s a almost a third of the year that my mind and body goes awol. But I have to return to clothes. They’re my comfort, my friend, my protector.
Sometimes I just have to laugh. After blacking out on the train on my way to a job earlier this summer, I arrived to an almost monastery level all-white location house (see below) in the Cotswolds. Dear reader, everything from the sofas, to the hydrangeas, to even the flipping dog was white. Lest to say I did not sit down all day. I’m sure the team felt especially uncomfortable whilst I stood next to their seated lunch. “Nah I’m fine, I like standing whilst eating. Need to stretch my legs.”
Like the majority of women I have crushing periods. Crushing pain + crushing confidence = nah I’m alright for getting dressed. I suppose dressing is to some degree about presentation of oneself and the very last thing I feel like doing when I’m on my period is offering myself up to anyone or anything. I want to hibernate not generate my own internal fashion ideas and feelings (for they are always linked, whatever your thoughts on fashion). But as the Rolling Stones sang, “You can’t always get what you want” and so I dress for roughly a week of the month like a period paranormal version of myself. Also, let’s be real, the below outfits are when I have to go out. When I don’t have to, it’s strictly pyjamas and tracksuit bottoms (the Firebird loose tracksuit is so good-it scratches my tailoring itch with the sewn in central seam). See below. No iron required!
Let’s get into it.
It’s glaringly obvious I know but black is your best friend. I am prone to flooding and have learnt my lesson when attempting to veer away from trusty black. It always involves multiple cold washes, outfit changes and excuses. I shouldn’t have to make excuses I know but again, it’s about self deflection. I cba to talk about the clots in my pants. Wearing black won’t stop the bleeding, but it will help disguise it.
And whilst I want to hide away, I don’t want to fully lose my sense of self, despite what my internal monologue is challenging me with.
First things first, there’s no way around it, one must embrace the bloat. It blooms, booms and is a non-negotiating force to be reckoned with. There’s no point hiding or fighting it. Hell it might even get me a seat on the tube which is exactly what I’m after. If weather permits, I prefer to have my belly out. Zero pressure on my abdomen area is a must.
Here are a handful of heavily dependable dark coloured pieces:
A Cos elasticated, mid-lenth puff ball skirt. They no longer sell this exact style but here’s a shorter version. She’s cute.
My Mum’s black divorce suit trousers. They’re low rise so no cinching, light as a feather and can be dressed up or down.
These Agolde shorts artfully toe the line between being high rise and loose. They also magically disguise my heroic Myoovi tens patch. Hard recommend.
Another variation on a short. Again they’re elasticated and tracksuit bottom like and can be dressed up or down.
4. These A.W.A.K.E Mode x John Lewis trousers with a sewn in skirt over the top are literally designed for periods. The double layer gives me that extra sense of security.
If more warmth/more glam is required I rely on two pieces of my wardrobe:
A black tube dress from Glassons. She hugs me and pushes up the newly sprouted breasts that emerge during my period. If you’ve got em, flaunt them I say.
2. Again, Mum’s trousers with a top half of more substance.
Two dresses I wish I’d bought for my time of the month:
Note the ruching and pleating. They disguise and distort. One day I hope I can swap the high street for Issey Miyake Pleats Please. It’s the most perfect period appropriate fabric, shape, weight, it’s everything. He is an undisputed genius to be leaned on for all of your days of the month of course. But I mean IMAGINE slipping on one of his supple and sculptural creations when you feel like a spiky football boot is scraping down your innards. It’s got to help surely?
And on those lighter days, nearing the end, I might be so bold as to brave brown. Wild, I know. Again, they’re both low rise and loose.
When in doubt, throw on a distracting, larger than life (and life size) enveloping coat and be on your way. Enter possibly my most coveted and complimented piece of clothing, the almighty Simone trench/dress coat.
Simone’s designs really do lend themselves to that time of the month. If only I could claim on my purchases for health purposes. A monthly SOS-send Simone, it’s an emergency!
I recently wore one of her black dresses as an attempted Wednesday Adams for Halloween. Hopefully you can tell which is costume and with is just for real life.
So there you have it. Period dressing 101. Let’s just thank our lucky stars we’re not slipping sea sponges and old rags into our knickers like in years of yore, or that we’re even allowed to leave the house when we’re bleeding! Maybe I’ll make the period diaries a regular thing? Maybe I won’t want to be reminded of them.
Ladies be kind to yourself when menstruating. Strap a hot water bottle to you, cry when you need too, have a wodge of sanitary products on tap and strong painkillers. And of course, carry a bar of chocolate with you like it’s a clutch bag.
SCREAMING at your description of ‘Catherine’. Have never read anything so accurate in my life. Also concept of divorce trousers is chic af