I’ve recently come to the major life conclusion that I don’t desire the corporate life, I’d once so convincingly imagined for myself. A life of lunch room sit-downs, the 9 to 5 grind but most importantly power dressing, is now sadly off the business cards.
The true Greek tragedy in all of this remains the collection of tailored pants, suave blazers and snotty emails I’ll never be able to unleash onto the world. Alas, wipe those invisible tears away people, there’s still a tiny ray of hope.
My passive aggressive email career might be shot, but my corporate dressing vocation is looking as hot as my shoulder pads (smoking, duh).
This Georgia Alice bad boy set is ticking all of the professional boxes I never will. Crisp, makes a good first impression and is a badass in the boardroom – you bloody ripper.
Wearing: Georgia Alice pant suit, Celine necklace, similar found here and Are You Am I crop, similar found here.
Bought about by my slow decline over the hill and my steady approach to an imminent quarter life crisis, I have been doing some serious searching of the soul lately. Journeying on as deep of a trail of self-discovery as my encumbered soul can muster, I have come to one important realisation.
My favourite colour is no longer yellow.
Having only just come to terms with this calibre of bombshell (measuring -1 on the bombshell metre, a bit like me), I am still finding it difficult to discuss openly. I am however, choosing to push through my fiery inner turmoil and break down the stigma, in the desperate hopes that my words help anyone else in a similar position.
I have spent the last 23 cushy years of my existence believing yellow, in all of its kind, warm hues was my numero uno – oh how wrong I was. I am now, after much internal assessment, announcing my allegiance with green and I encourage y’all to do the same.
If my laborious, overly-detailed and mildly-waffled explanation was not evidence enough, I bring before the court, my smoking gun – this Georgia Alice dress.
Ladies, gentlemen and our gender fluid friends, I rest my case.
Wearing: Georgia Alice dress found here, Celine necklace found here and jerky grin.
They say all good things come in pairs – boobs, twin-sized Mars bars, Hilary and Hailey Duff. Now, while these of these wonderful pairings ring true and blue, this deeply philosophical theory can also be applied to garms. Winter garms, summer garms, the whole nine yards – you name it! The not-so-wise, deeply vein and historically unstylish woman captured in the snooty images below says so, so it must be 100% tried and tested.
The far wiser and historically stylish duo behind Zimmermann certainly got the memo and are helping their adoring sisters out everywhere. This floral-lovers wet dream has me praising the lords up above with my now stylish mind, body and spirit.
Thank you, Zimmermann, thank you.
Wearing: Zimmermann Sunny Smocked top & skirt.
These pants have magic powers and no, not the kind that bring America Ferrera and Blake Lively together after a long, difficult summer. No, these pants are the positive self-esteem heroes of our generation, in other words, not Blake Lively. They bring love handles and muffins tops together after long, over-indulgent summers and house them in one beautiful, corded flare pant – happy tears.
My college experience saw me gain the revered Freshmen 15lbs in six months after an onslaught of non-Mexican Mexican food and $1 screwdrivers and in the aftermath, these pants were my only salvation.
Let this be a lesson for you all, in times of need you must always, always turn to Gucci and teen movies highlighting the importance of female friendship and/or sisterhood.
Wearing: Gucci pants, Acne Studios tee and Balenciaga heels.
As you can tell, I’m a devout minimalist. With the help of Confucius, Socrates and of course, Ikea, I have transformed my cluttered, chaotic life into an austere and restrained existence. No longer do I indulge in the practices of materialism, exhibiting the finer qualities of the Minimalistic lifestyle, and it is just that, a lifestyle.
This emotional upheaval is a change that has transcended into my sartorial choices, with my clothing now representing the discreet nature of my minimalistic life. As you can see, my garmets adhere to a strict black, white and grey palate, and serving merely as practical, functional items of apparel.
If you two are looking to simplify your life and your fashion choices, feel free to contact me for tips, tricks and words of wisdom (bullshit).
Wearing: Rat and Boa dress & Josh Goot corset, similar here.
I have impressively crap hair, I say it like you haven’t already noticed, but woe really is me. I blame my poor genetic makeup for being particularly inconsiderate and choosing me last for the good hair team – what a bastard.
Thin, ratty and causing me the same psychological repercussions experienced by 50% of the male population suffering from premature baldness, my hair sucks.
Despite several wildly unsuccessful attempts at stimulating hair growth, attempts that left me with nothing more than the faint whiff of desperation, I have finally come to accept my misfortune.
My thin, mullet-esque mane can always do with a little helping hat and thanks to the good dudes at Lack of Color, my rats tail is now happily and rather fashionably disguised – hoorah.
Wearing – Winston Wolfe leather pants, similar found here & affordable faux leather leggings here, Asos blouse, similar found here and here, Lack of Color boater, similar found here.
Talk about sports bras with a B cupper and your conversation will be a short lived one, but give her a crop top that doubles as a sports bra and gosh darn it, you won’t be able to shut her up – Ghandi.
Ain’t it true?! As a founding member of the Itty-Bitty-Titty committee and beneficiary of the club discounts, I have no space in my life for sports bras. For one, I don’t engage in strenuous enough exercise to require a sports bra, and B, my melons don’t need the emotional or physical support of no bra, or man at that either.
So when the full moon emerges and I opt to fire up the treadmill, my hamstrings and the exercise playlist that features far too many 2009 Taylor Swift songs for public acknowledgment, I reach for my myriad of crop tops.
Not only do they provide me with great sartorial satisfaction on my 10-minute powerwalk on every second Tuesday of the month, but they emulate the fine work of sports bras for the larger bust.
Once such crop top is this Bamba Swim number, ideal for the small breasted power walker or lover of clothes. I recommend as much as I recommend a fictional Ghandi quote.
Wearing: Bamba Swim crop similar here, Jbrand jeans similar here and Photobomber Cat found here.
I have one rule I thought was never to be broken – if I’m wearing a jumpsuit and it’s not giving me a camel toe, it ain’t no jumpsuit of mine. You’d be as startled as me to find that this denim number has broken my cardinal rule, gasps. No camels or their dirty, stinkn’ toes in sight, who would’ve thunk it?!
In high school I was permanently settled up the asses of all of my teachers and was never a preacher of the ‘rules are meant to be broken’ passage, but as it turns out, not all jumpsuits give you camel toe – miraculous, hey?
Cotton On has me singing happy tunes of elation in this stretchy, denim onesie and boy does it feel good. Total comfort and all without a hefty price tag, you beauty.
Wearing: Cotton on jumpsuit, similar found here and here, vintage Chanel belt, similar found here and here, with affordable version here.
I have gently touched upon the art of diversion previously, but very much feel the need to do so again. You see, I am a 5 foot 11 tomboy with bad ankles and the clumsy gene marinating in my genetic makeup. It won’t come as a huge surprise when I say this little giraffe can’t walk in heels to save her or her ankles lives.
So when it comes to purchasing heels, I employ one tactic and one tactic only – make ‘em colourful enough to distract your audience. Hence the bright green, mildly obnoxious boots I have gone for here.
Shine them in direct sunlight and they’re enough to blind even your most critical enemy. Make ‘em bright and bold enough to avert the eye from your rod-up-the-ass walking technique and Viola! Mission accomplished.
Wearing: Thrifted blazer similar found here, Asos boots, Vintage scarf similar found here.