My Zara Jacket vs. My Age

I look around at glamourously fashionable girls in the city centre, strolling along with bagels and fabulous hair. My fringe just whacked me in the eye. Hair bands suit me, better wearing one than constantly end up brushing your hair off your face until it looks greasy and gross. Hats too, they’re good for me and my obstreperous hair. It’s all about knowing what’s good for you. What suits you.

That being said, I cannot help sometimes being a little obstinate and buying things that I just plain want to buy. Mom jeans fall into this category spectacularly. I feel that I look dreadful in them, I’m not going to lie, I feel fat. With my already large legs, clothing them with jeans that do not flatter and/or suck everything in an inch or two does not do my self esteem much good. 

It was one of those things that I saw everyone wearing and thought, yes! I want to try those! And it took me such a long time to talk myself into buying them. I found a pair that looked great on a slim model and thought that maybe they wouldn’t look so bad. Real stiff denim I have established does my figure no favours but I’ve worn them so many times because they are so spacious. I’m conflicted with feeling awful and comfortable simultaneously.


They make me self conscious in my local shopping mall which I like to call ‘Marks & Spencer central’ because it’s full of middle-aged+ men and women dishing out the dirty looks when I walk by with my intentionally mis-matched handbag and shoes. It ruins fashion for me when so many people stare, nobody has said anything yet but there is always a chance of them picking up on my attempt to feign youth by following trends.

. . .

I put on a multi coloured Zara jacket, fished from the depths of the summery side of my wardrobe from a collection sourced during the dull winter, I felt fantastic! Combined with blue skinny jeans and a pale grey cami, I saw myself parading down the street swinging my handbag to the rhythm of my internal soundtrack (come on, we all have one) but just before I left the room, I changed for something understated and more suited to my age – what does that mean?


How old am I in fashion years and why do I feel afraid of wearing a colourful jacket?

I’m 29 in October and still feel as immature as a 19 year old me tottering around in heels and short skirts. It’s not fair for it to stop being acceptable for a person to wear what he or she wants to at whatever age without judgement, because in the confines of my bedroom I feel like I can take on the world and probably could if it would let me, but as I leave my confidence stays to hide in the wardrobe and leaves me defenceless.

I walked across a supermarket car park in ripped jeans once and the comments from the elderly would keep you awake at night. I couldn’t believe that so many sweet looking little old ladies had so many horrible words to say about jeans, what could they say about an experimental combination of colours fabricated in a vaguely artistic stupor, where my inspiration usually resides? A lot. So I wear what could be considered socially acceptable when really I want to fly out the door in a prom skirt with pink in my hair and run away to find some kindred spirits!

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