Twenty-Bloody-One

I recently turned 21, a milestone that was celebrated with a cake or two, a beer or four and my first experience with an early-life crisis. My bucket list for ‘life before adulthood’ was far from checked off with my skin remaining untouched by the tip of a tattoo gun, no repertoire of holiday romances with hunky Bolivian men and no amateur blogging experience to put on my resume (baloney). After hours upon minutes of contemplation and review, a cruel realisation had washed over me. I was not ready to be an adult. According to folk law, or more accurately the gift card section at Woolworths, by age 21 you are supposed to own a house. What. The. Hell.

As my day of birth arrived, I sat myself down with a large chunk of birthday cake and a big ol’ cup of get the hell over it. I mean, surely there are some worthwhile perks to adulthood? Staying up late, eating what you want, not having to shower daily etc. Sounded pretty bloody good to me and as quickly as it had come, my early-life crisis was gone, replaced with renewed birthday cheer.

Wanting a wardrobe to reflect my new, matured outlook on life, I fed into my daily online shopping habit and stumbled across another benefit of adulthood – the pencil skirt, reserved for ages 21 and above. My coming of age was well and truly defined by my first post birthday purchase, this dazzling Dion Lee skirt. Below the knee and navy, both signs of evolution and utter maturity. Thus, beginning the systematic purging off all my old habits and previously juvenile rational. I’m basically as adult as it comes now, I’m just avoiding the card section at Woollies.

Wearing: Dion Lee ruffle skirt, Ellery top, Zana Bayne choker, Balenciaga heels.
Photos: Anastasia Borrelli

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