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Sleepwear : Outerwear



Before sharing the piece I wrote for this post a few days ago, I'd first like to briefly speak about the horrifying news that the world woke up to yesterday morning. It's hard to collect your thoughts together about circumstances like this, because the mere thought of an act so sickening shouldn't even be possible. But it was - it was sickening and completely inhumane. Those words can't even begin to express it. News like this will always hit you hard - and this hit me because it happened so close to home, in a venue that many happy memories were made for me as a child. Concerts - they're wholly ecstatic events that people go to for their own experience of pure joy. And for children in particular, pure joy in the most rewarding and innocent form imaginable - joy that remains with them forever. So the action of shattering a blessed experience for so many in the most horrific way is true inhumanity. It can't be fathomed. Whilst I could write for days about the matter, I won't say much more. I use this website as an open platform to share my thoughts, so I wanted to shed a piece of my opinion on the news - news I need not describe in detail because everyone reading this is sure to feel as equally disgusted. My thoughts go out to all those affected during this terrible act of inhumanity. But let us not allow it to diminish the dreams that should come from the wonderful experiences that are made through pop culture. Let us live out the dreams of those who are no longer here to pursue them.

Rural Recluse


When I was five years old, I viewed the world through frames of fantasy. I remember travelling with my parents to the Lake District - a national park in Cumbria, northwest England - for a short recluse away from the city which was our home. The suburban beauty of its pure nature affirmed its undeniable charm, and as a young child mesmerised by the simplest of things, many of its traditions compelled me. One particular episode worth noting was a storyteller's garden I visited in a small village called Grasmere. Families would gather around a fantastical storyteller who would immerse each and every soul present through recounting traditional fairytales. You'd sit on ornate wooden chairs and feel at complete ease surrounded by torches and braziers, which only served to amplify the tales told before you. It was a mesmeric experience to my youthful, dreaming self - I felt part of a world far from reality. Maybe that's a reason I grew to study and love literature - I always enjoyed the feeling of escaping to an alternative world.

Feminine

People often ask me why I want to work in fashion. Is it just for the sake of saying how much I like clothes? No, it's much more than that. The power that the fashion industry holds means that it is able to incite change and spark propaganda, which is something we're seeing more of in the wake of social and political agitation. But at the same time, fashion can serve as a display of who we naturally are, and as a female, I enjoy using fashion as a mode of celebrating my femininity. When observing the recent fashion frenzy associated with feminism, it appears as though there are different ways to proclaim your gender, something that I am going to shed opinion on today.

The Woman in Black


*This piece was written for CITOYENNE.

Spring is upon us and, in adherence, the streets of London seem even more chaotic than usual as we feel overpoweringly urged to reflect the season in our wardrobes and dress according to its conventions. With explosions of bright colour and surges of dramatic print, spring sparks increased visibility of more obviously abstract fashion, which, in the age of minimalist clothing, no longer serves to be quite as impactful as it once was. Cue the Miranda Priestly reaction: “Florals? For spring? Ground-breaking.”

Enigma


I've long considered French culture to be the idealised lifestyle. My dad's deep interest in French music meant that an array of musicians from Erik Satie to Serge Gainsbourg became cultural epitomes of my childhood. I vividly remember him blasting Gainsbourg's duet with Brigitte Bardot: Comic Strip, for my amusement. It's overtly kitsch pop style triggered me to theatrically parade throughout the house, singing the only words that made some form of manic sense to my juvenile mentality: 'SHEBAM! POW! BLOP! WIZZ!'. Thinking back on it now, my mentality towards the song has barely changed, simply because I think it resonates with all generations. Brigitte Bardot's lyrics are solely onomatopoeic - they're basic and unembellished, but therefore bold and effortless. I would make the same claim for much of French fashion, and subsequently the ideal Parisian woman.