As I was browsing through Topshop a few months ago I spotted this skirt. I immediately recognised the print as I had a jacket in my wardrobe that resembled it. And so the meaning behind the title of this post begins...
I believe it must have been my 12th or 13th birthday when I received this jacket as a present. I remember my mum having put it in a box with tissue paper to disguise it. I had originally spotted it in Valleygirl and instantly fell in love. This was one of my earlier fashion moments that has stayed with me. I can’t seem to part with this jacket, and even now it still has a place in my wardrobe.
Flashback to 2014 where I didn’t even have the chance to try on the skirt in Topshop as majority of the sizes had sold out. There happened to be only two left, but when it came down to it, I couldn’t justify the $80 or so price tag. Again, my mum kindly surprised me with this skirt after work one day and this blog post was already in motion. For me this is not only an outfit, but a symbol of both my sartorial maturation and my psychological growth.
On the day of my 18th birthday I thought it would be fitting to do a little reflection on my life thus far. As a monumental birthday and a symbol of my development into a woman its seems fitting that I put thought to paper, in this case, to screen. Turning 18 grants one with many responsibilities, and the assumption that one acts maturely and adult like. Though no one can deprive me of my love for Disney movies, the Zac Efron poster laden walls of my bedroom and my complete ignorance of how to run the dishwasher, washing machine and iron. In my defence I can work the toaster, microwave and oven. Where I would once spend my weekends baking carrot and walnut cupcakes, I now work two jobs and focus on writing blog posts. I still love to paint my nails (but perhaps avoid the lime green polish I used to sport), demolish ice cream in minutes (nothing’s changed here) and read magazines. It appears that perhaps I am not so different to the 12 year old version of myself, but there is no doubt that I am more confident and self-assured. Walking around with my Prada look-alike bag clutched on my arm I feel as if I can conquer the world.
Just the other day I was waiting for my sister to try on a dress in the change rooms when a young girl appeared from the curtain to show her mum an outfit. I could tell that her mother was not impressed at the length of the hem, though her daughter kept insisting that it was long enough. I was analysing the skirt too as I stood next to the girl’s mum, when she asked for my advice. This was an important moment for me as I was no longer the child pushing their mother to agree on the length of a skirt, I was a woman with valid advice. Not only did it cement my feelings that I was a ‘lady,’ as the mother referred to me as, I was a woman who could deliver fashion advice in an everyday setting. My words were no longer restricted to a Word Document.
Similarly, before I went to work a few days ago I popped into Mecca Maxima for a quick browse. One of the assistants complimented me on my handbag, and I was explaining to her how heavy it gets throughout the day. She nodded her head in agreement and explained how she makes her boyfriend hold her bag. I replied by saying that, unfortunately, I don’t have a boyfriend so I just have to hold it myself. She laughed supportively and jokingly described me as a ‘strong, independent woman.’ When the conversation was over and she walked away I thought ‘Yes, I am a strong, independent woman.’ I can hold a conversation with a complete stranger and not feel inadequate or like a little girl. It may seem silly but it is moments like these that you really begin to understand your personality and the way you present yourself in society.
I finally worked up the courage to get a haircut (well, a trim) after about a year and a half of looking at my split ends everyday. I had mentally prepared myself to get a haircut and my mum rang the salon (talking on the phone is something I still refuse to do), but unfortunately my hairdresser had left. On a spontaneous recommendation from my best friend’s mum I literally walked into the front door of the salon and into the chair. Apart from the fact that my arms were fixed in the same position the whole time, I felt quite relaxed. It was probably the first time that I didn’t feel uncomfortable at the hairdressers. We started talking, the hairdresser and I, about how we like to have our hair, she told me about her family and I told her my birthday plans. To my lack of a red face it was not awkward at all.
So let’s blow out the relit candles on my left over birthday cake together. Yes, this post was late unfortunately, but perhaps it’s my way of extending my birthday. Cake anyone?
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