So I scour the internet and I think about silks, linens and sheer fabrics and pretend that 'resort wear' is something I should have. As I mentioned before, I don't really 'do' shopping anymore. Instead it is a project-based acquisition of a desired item that has leaped many mental hurdles before it is genuinely considered. I get brand-obsessed, which in itself is interesting in the technological-inspired habits of the modern shopper. I check google images, I check Pinterest, I look at Instagram, I send screen shots to my friends and ask questions like: am I too old for this?! I have to accept there has been a massive shift in the way I acquire clothes. It's also linked to my age; no longer are there impulse buys. I look for 'pieces' now, things that I will rely on for years and years and that will bring pleasure each time I bring them out. I am swayed by others, the school my son attends happens to have a number of mothers who are 'in' fashion and who come on the school run looking like they're just stepped off a photoshoot. They probably have. It's enough to provoke doubt in the mind of the average mother like me. I soldier on. I think a lot about style. I emulate and I internalise and try to make something mine.
I often feel that all of this frippery is surplus to requirement, that my interest in clothes is somehow futile and self-absorbed. And it really is, but isn't anyone's interest in clothes representative of so much more? It says so much about a person. What you wear is the external statement that you make every day. It says what you love and what you hate. I see so many women who have opted out of the whole event of dressing and it makes me sad. I wrote about it once here and a comment was left saying that sometimes women lose their way and they don't even know that they have. I guess that can be true but still, there is always always the chance to turn up and dress up, isn't there?
I lament that rural Sussex does not lend itself to fashion. There is very little scope for all that. And can I just say that my feet have adjusted entirely to my housewife existence and I literally can not tolerate heels for longer than an hour. My feet are staging a rebellion after years of mistreatment.
And then there's the money. I don't earn money right now and looking around the blogosphere I am not sure how many women do (is 'blogosphere' even a term any more?! Remember when blogs were so current...so very cutting edge... that they coined their own 'sphere'?). If I were working I wouldn't have time to muse over all of this stuff. I would be out there...working. So instead there is this strange dichotomy of having lots of time and no money and wanting to shop. Are there many understanding bank-rolling husbands? Have people squirrelled away savings? Does blog advertising pay more than I imagined? Does clothes shopping constitute the pay-back of a toiling wife and mother? These things intrigue me and often, when I look at the literally endless summaries of brands on fashion blogs I ask myself: who is paying??!! But I digress...we all have out own little habits and parameters for this pursuit.
So in the end I have a list of things I want that I largely can't have. I add to cart and try to leave it at that. I send the web hit algorithms into overdrive of the brands I like. Then I put it all in the (mental) freezer for a few days and see if it's a whim or a real desire. Deep freeze.




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