Starting out in fashion? Curious about my own little weird trajectory? Here’s my story, with a few tips thrown in for good measure…
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I was asked to do a few blogs for Stylist’s website (you can check them out here should you be so inclined), and since I’m writing to represent the ‘career climber’ tribe (•cough•), I naturally had a few words to say about my new-found funemployment. Here they are, below…
I’ve never questioned my dedication to my career. It always seemed like the most natural thing in the world to want to have a goal in mind and go after it relentlessly. My parents, despite not particularly being cut from that kind of cloth, were instrumental in that they supported me every step of the way. They even allowed me to live at home for longer than was probably wise while I suffered the unpaid internships deemed necessary to break into the fashion industry. It wasn’t completely out of character, then, when I decided to make the leap from full time at Stylist magazine to fully-fledged freelancer; a career move that I thought of as empowering, if a little reckless. Still, exciting all the same.
![non-je-ne-regrette-rien-print-a3-white-15650-p[ekm]335x466[ekm]](http://www.newfavouritething.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2013/11/non-je-ne-regrette-rien-print-a3-white-15650-pekm335x466ekm.jpg)
CLIMB DOWN OFF THAT LEDGE! I’m back! And I plan on being back a lot going forward. Not gone and then back again, back. Just back back. Back for good back. So, yes. You can all rest easy.
Life’s changed quite a bit in the past month. I finally moved out. I left Stylist to go freelance. I grew some cojones. I even cleaned a bathroom. (My own, should you care).
I also, whilst in the process of packing up what seemed like a small country, (or at the very least the equivalent of 3-4 Zaras), realised that I have quite the denim addiction. Interesting, since I didn’t even like jeans all that much growing up, preferring diabolical Moschino tracksuit-bottoms or badly-fitting, bumster-effect black trousers from Pilot. And not in the good McQueen kind of way. More like the low-slung enough to proudly display a crystallised thong and a strong sense of indecency kind of way. Denim, by comparison, seems like a strangely sensible place to have ended up. But nonetheless, here I am, with no fewer than twenty-two pairs of jeans in my possession, a total convert. More than that; utterly, hopelessly dependent.
The indigo numbers in the above picture are probably the hardest-working ones in my wardrobe. They hail from edgy New York brand Siwy who do the best collection of skinnies – hugging in all the right places and ending at exactly the right place on your ankle, flashing just a little bit. Miles better than flashing a thong, any day. They’re getting a bit sad and old, though, and should probably be retired to the big wardrobe in the sky. These ones from K&Co are an amazing alternative I’ve found, and since I live in my jeans they tick the essential box of being super-comfy to wear all day long. I’m also slightly obsessed with these patchworked babies and will most probably be getting my Liz Hurley on in these white spray-ons as well.
New job, new flat, new life. Same old shopping habit, though. Some things never change.
