There are some things I won’t wear (namely anything chenille).
Some things I can’t wear (namely hot pants)....
...but after this, I still think that there's nothing that I shouldn't wear because it may or may not make me look more or less attractive/approachable/sexy or all of the above.
My fashion partner in crime may feel that her relationship may have had an effect on her quirky dressing, but could this not have been exactly what caught her young mans eye in the first place? or else just a natural evolution of her style?
Lord knows, I'm not wearing the same
stuff I did 10 years ago (Well...actually...)
What I'm actually most pleased about is that I've made friends with my face.
In the past, we've had a bit of a love/hate relationship, but when I had nowhere else to hide - no bells, no whistles and no diversion tactics - we had some quality time together, and I realised we're a winning combination...
It’s true that you sometimes have to strip everything back to find out who you are, and I think I’ve done that. And who I am is a woman who is quite happy to please noone but herself when considering what to wear.
Although I’ve had some fun over 30 days pretending I'm not….
So will I be shaving my head anytime soon? Probably not.
But I realise now that my canvas doesn’t always need to be so……Heavily embellished.
I don’t need all the razzle dazzle, but I like a bit of hardwear every once and a while. After all, it’s my party, and I’ll rock if I want to!
In truth, I took on all the pearls of wisdom that my male friends gifted to me as part of my research and there was a distinct increase in the frequency of declarations of interest. However, I’m not sure if this was simply because I was on the lookout for it… (intentionise, intentionise)...
My antennae were highly attuned.
It wasn’t until I was back in my civvies and 'unadulterated St. Louis,' complete with a gold metal collar from the V and A museum, (The shop. It wasn’t a smash and grab by a woman driven mental by fashion gubbins deprivation) 50s style quiff, black studded stilettos, a black dress and the reddest, glossiest lipstick I could get my hands on that I got chatted up by the hottest, funniest, most direct, most honest and possibly the bravest bloke who’d tried his luck with me for a long time.
It wasn’t a ‘feminine’ one.
I looked like Boudicca at a black tie dinner.