Younger self dressing
Not 'having a coffee with my younger self', just dressing a bit like her.
If you read my last post, you might have figured out that post-Christmas often leaves me in some kind of funk. At the start of the year I’m feeling my least adventurous and am most doubtful about ev-ery-thing. My style at the time of course reflects my murky state of mind. It usually consists of a lot of baggy jeans and jumpers, (staples are Agolde and Sims knitwear) at best a jazzy sock and shoe combo or a zingy accessory to perk up an otherwise drab fit (see below for evidence).
Spring officially arrives on the 20th of March this year but it already feels ripe and ready in the air. Buds are shooting, £1 daffodils are on offer and as the light begins to lengthen our days so too has it shone a much needed youthful glow on my wardrobe. By youthful, I’m not saying dress like an actual child, ew no, I suppose I mean impulsive dressing. As a child, if free to do so, you dress purely on instinct, not for the weather, to please others or to suit your surroundings. Younger self dressing is kooky. She mixes things up/doesn’t give a fuck, is wildly impractical but most importantly dresses solely for the fun of it and for herself. She’s liberating. I should try her on more.
Enough of the third person. Here are some younger self styling pointers:
Fantasy
When children dress themselves they start with fantasy. At the centre of the fit might be a Spiderman costume or glittery fairy wings paired with rainbow tights or a knitted tomato hat. They’re solely pulling out garments that make them feel happy. Now I’m not suggesting you arrive to work dressed ready for World Book Day (no shade if you do though). What I am suggesting is that you squeeze even just a smidge of fantasy into your outfits. Exhibit A:
I bought this frothy Sister Jane dress from Asos (if you squint it could be Molly Goddard) for my hen do but also for life. I’ve since paired it with a cardigan, jumper or coloured tights and it makes me internally squeal with delight every time. I mean, how could it not? I swish and swoosh around London as though I’ve stepped off the set of Swan Lake. What’s not to love?
One of my oldest friend’s wrote to me saying how my wedding looks reminded her of the sugar plum fairy, a reference I’m still thrilled with.
Here I am tapping into sugar plum yet again, on the Sunday after my wedding for lunch with my family at my sisters house wearing the very chicest of them all, Liberowe. I wore all three duchess satin pieces (skirt, jacket and coat) and my Dorothy-esque dancing shoes. Never have I ever looked so put together on a mild hangover whilst watching Moana on repeat with my nephew. The Liberowe ivory trio transported me back to that desperate feeling you get as a child, the defiance of never wanting to change into anything else ever again. Sadly the generous PR had other ideas so Cinderella returned her silken suit via courier the following week…
Committing to colour
At my nursery, both the children and members of staff wore vivid hued sweatshirts for their uniform. One of my earliest memories is wanting to match my sweatshirt colour with that of my favourite teachers. Whatever she wore, I had to also. Little did she know we had embarked on a colourful commitment to one another.
And whilst I’m on the topic of committing to colour, look at how graciously this woman on the bus has mastered it, like she’s taken a delicious dip in Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory. There’s a whiff of a Nancy Meyer’s protagonist in the insouciance of it all.
Taking notes! One colour + different textures = pleasing, eye catching, interesting. If toffee brown isn’t your shade but Dairy Milk purple is, may I point you in the direction of one of my favourite Instagram accounts @grapespotting.
This look clearly stayed with me as I headed that morning to the French Connection gifting suite and quickly left with a more contemporary alternative. It feels a touch more elevated thanks to the dipped boat neckline plus I went for a size up on the trousers. I much prefer a trouser hem that could plonk itself nicely in a puddle over a cropped hem/exposed ankle situation. In fact I’d go so far to say that there’s something quite perverse about a naked ankle poking out of a suit trouser.
She sells sea shells on the sea shore
Collecting shells is a forever favourite for me. I scoured Devon’s coastline with my Grandma for precious treasures as a young child, then graduated on to further shores with my Mum—crouching, plucking, cleaning, showing, pocketing, cherishing. Instead of gathering in a bowl or artfully arranging at home (one day I hope to have enough table space to recreate the spherical pebble swirl at Kettles Yard) I like to slide a shell onto a necklace or earring. It feels a little crafty, a little mad art teacher. I’d even go so far to say it can feel a bit witchy but I love how it can transform a simple chain into a rattling statement piece of jewellery. They can be a dainty addition to a summer tank or an exclamation mark atop dark winter layers. Take your pick and await compliments.
Maybe you’re not a shell kinda gal but more of a trinket, keyring, scoobydoo collector? Go forth and adorn à la Jane Birkin or Anya Hindmarch and jingle jangle.
Which brings me nicely onto…
Take your teddy
Ok now this one does feel a bit far fetched I admit but fluffy teddies were clutched, cradled and clipped onto bags galore at the fall/winter 25 collections. See Simone Rocha and Stuart Vevers at Coach etc. Is it the tactility of it all? The nostalgia of youth? The nod to Y2K in the 2020s? Who cares. In the essence of younger self dressing take your cosy companion with you and seize the day! For me that’s via a Charlotte Simone bag or a Kitri shearling edged vinyl jacket.
Get crafty
I still can’t let go of my precious sticker albums I collected as a child. They are a marker of my obsessions: Gareth Gates (my first crush), Harry Potter characters, cartoons etc. I adorned any hard surface with my eclectic community. Today I feverishly spin stands of stickers, buying fresh sheets for my niece and nephews. My grown up alternative? Nail art. Stuck on or painted they tap (figuratively and literally) into that same frenzied feeling I got as a child at the end of the summer holiday on our annual trip to WHSmith for a pencil case and gel pen refresh. Bliss. Nail art feels like beauty by way of doodling.
If I were to round up younger self dressing into a pithy theme (although the whole point of this way of dressing is that there are no rules) it would be the thrill of enjoying too much. There’s a ravenous greed and delight in youthful dressing, for no child yelps with glee at the idea of quiet luxury dressing. Younger self dressing feels like a defiant rejection of the griege palette we are all too often presented with on the runway and in stores. Sometimes quiet luxury makes me feel unstoppable, other times it makes me yawn. I’m a sucker for a suit but in light of the macho mansphere we find ourselves orbiting, younger self dressing feels like a frothy f you to the system, it’s a splash of silliness and joy in repressive and depressing times.
For further examples of younger self dressing on speed head to the Leigh Bowery exhibition at the Tate Modern. His capacity for creativity and self expression was endless.
And of course when in doubt, add a bow!