The papers want to know whose shirts you wear

Cardi: thrifted. Top: H&M. Trousers: Next. Shoes: Jones the Bootmaker via eBay. Necklace: made by me

A space-related title for a space-related landmark of a day. You can never go wrong with Bowie.

Although it is quite hard not to think ‘alarming mullet + tights’ when it comes to said idol. Having seen Labyrinth on the big screen a few years ago, certain things about his performance do rather stick in the mind. Ahem.

Moving swiftly on, have an earworm for the weekend!

I used to write…

 Cardi: thrifted. Top: Next via eBay. Trousers: Next. Shoes: thrifted. Brooch: www.mockinghorse.co.uk

I am, basically, wearing pyjamas today. Yes, I know, the trousers are suiting fabric and there’s a brooch and pointy shoes, but nevertheless, this is as close to pyjamas as I get.

Sometimes, you just have to, don’t you?

You were so poorly cast as a malcontent

 Cardi: Wallis. Top: H&M. Trousers: Next. Shoes: Jones the Bootmaker via eBay. Necklace: made by me

This was going to be  a completely different blog post. But then a memory suddenly crept out of hiding and took control of my consciousness unexpectedly.

It’s funny how that happens, isn’t it? No obvious triggers, but nevertheless I’m thinking of something that happened years ago, in my late teens, as if the latch on the box holding it broke and the memory took its chance and flew to the front of my mind.

It’s not a nice memory. If I told you what it was (I’m not going to, so don’t ask), you’d probably say it was quite the opposite. But the funny thing is, looking back on it now it’s not an awful one either, in spite of everything.

It’s one of those situations where life could have gone completely differently had a particular road not been taken. Something painful, challenging and emotional in ways for which I wasn’t fully prepared at the time (I have a feeling it’s the sort of thing that no-one’s fully prepared for, really.), and I didn’t have as much support around me as I could have so kind of bumbled about healing myself as best I could.

Looking back on it all now, now that it’s all a decade and a half away, I find it’s like reading a book or watching a film. I feel empathy for the girl that I can see in so much pain, but the pain itself is long gone – it doesn’t sting any more.

And, painful though it was, it’s contributed to me being the me I am today, whoever she is. What she is, though, is stronger than she realised as a bruised and hurting 18 year old. People are forged, in some ways, aren’t they?

—

And, er, since I talked recently about my not-work outfits, I figured I’d show you the slight change that happens when I get in and don’t fancy wearing my work duds around the house. Have a post-supermarket, chilling for the afternoon shot:

Turn and face the strain

 Cardi: Wallis. Top: Oasis. Trousers: Next. Necklace: www.mockinghorse.co.uk

…I am also wearing shoes under there, honestly, but the continued changes resulting from my morning yoga sessions mean that these trousers are starting to slide off me to a point where I may have to (eep!) give them up.

These days, I am usually to be found downstairs doing the Yogamazing video podcast at about 6.15, 6.30 each morning. I sound repulsively healthy now, don’t I? If it’s any help, I could be found at about 6.30 yesterday evening scoffing Jaffa Cakes.

It’s interesting, though, watching the changes to myself as I actually commit to daily practice. I’m not talking hours per day, but just remembering to do maybe 20mins, half an hour each morning is really making a difference. It’s not that I’ve lost weight, though I have and seem to be continuing slowly to do so, it’s the other things. I have, for my height, long legs and a short torso. Those legs have always been flexible and relatively toned, but my upper body strength was always poor and my torso much less flexible and, well, decidedly less toned. That’s starting to change.

My arms are starting to tone up, and to hold me with ease in positions which previously challenged. My stamina has improved (although, that abs-focused flow? ouch, y’bloody sadist !). My torso is…. well, still kinda wobbly and not so flexible, but it’s improving in tone and my waist is as small as it’s ever been in the past 9 years.

The most important things, though, haven’t really been physical. I feel so much more alive and full of energy for starting the day with exercise (Oh lordy, those things the naturally active people tell you? All True. Dammit.). And I’m proud of myself for taking care of my body, for sticking to a routine that has such positive effects on both my physical and mental health.

I’ve changed a hell of a lot in the past decade, in so many ways. I wonder how far that’s been noticed by those that have known me that long or longer?

Sine wave

 Top: H&M. Trousers: Next. Shoes: Dorothy Perkins. Necklace: www.mockinghorse.co.uk 

Faintly mathematical post title – you can tell I’ve just been talking to my dad, can’t you? He is, after all, a man who has produced a painting of the concept of imaginary numbers, art and maths being two of his favourite things.

Being my dad, of course, what his paintings mostly demonstrate are a decidedly irreverent nature and a sense of humour. And ducks. Multi-coloured ducks.

While we do do serious discussion in my family, it’s rare that it doesn’t end with us in fits of laughter. Life’s too short not to grab humour from it where you can, no?

Chocolate lime?

Cardi: thrifted. Top: Wallis. Trousers: Next. Shoes: Dorothy Perkins. Necklace: www.mockinghorse.co.uk

This isn’t, to my mind, a chocolate lime outfit, but it’s what my boss immediately said I reminded her of when she saw me this morning.

There seems to be something of a leaning, on the part of several of the people I work with, towards the style of previous eras. You know I’ve a developing-as-fast-as-I-can-get-my-hands-on-it interest in vintage, and today most of the people I spoke to seemed to be hankering after the sartorial standards of the 1940s-1970s. Hats, suits, polished shoes – all the elegance and panache that we don’t really have these days.

That’s not to say I don’t fully appreciate the freedom I have to not bundle myself into girdles every day if I don’t want to, to pop to the shops in jeans and flat shoes, heck, to wear trousers to work if I want to. But I do sometimes wish that, say, the wearing of hats in anything other than freezing or boiling weather wasn’t such an unusual thing. And I’ve known a few men say they’d love for a full suit, hat and polished shoes to be considered standard attire for most occasions instead of something that’s only really donned for weddings.

It’s nice to see some 50s and 70s styles making it back into the fashion rotation for women, but I don’t really see the same thing happening for men (perhaps I’m just not looking in the right places?). It would be nice if we could find a way to balance things so that the freedom we have to be casual if we want didn’t render the desire to dress sharply when the mood strikes so unusual. Being able to pick whichever end of the spectrum we wanted, or indeed, any clothing options we wanted without social pressure boxing us in? Now that would be sartorial freedom.

Ruffles

Cardi: Wallis. Top: Boden via eBay. Trousers: Next. Shoes: Dorothy Perkins. Necklace: www.mockinghorse.co.uk

We’re in the middle of some minor renovations at home at the moment. Nothing huge, and all for cosmetic purposes only, but I have to confess that between camping up in the spare room instead of using the living room for a few days and trying to figure out what colour paint to go for when it comes to painting time  I’m a little sapped on the writing front.

Ah well, it all ebbs and flows, doesn’t it?

On Kindness

Cardi: thrifted. Top: Wallis. Trousers: Next. Shoes: thrifted. Necklace: made by me

One of several conversations today was with a friend of mine who, it transpires, is feeling, I think, frustrated and a little stagnated with aspects of her life at the moment. She said that she needs to learn to be kinder to herself, and that really rang true for me as well. I’ve been putting in, over the past few years, a lot of effort to treat myself the way I’d treat friends as, like a lot of people, I was critical of myself and my decisions (or lack thereof!) in a way that I wouldn’t even think of being of a friend.

We were both raised to approach life with the belief that we could do anything we wanted, and while that’s had phenomenal benefits I do wonder if a drawback has been that it’s left us with a feeling that we should be able to do everything.

We’ve both said that we find it difficult to open up about how we’re feeling, and certainly in my case I’m really only just learning how to ask for help when I need it, and to not feel a failure if I do. We’ve been asking too much of ourselves, far more than we’d ever ask of each other.

Because, of course, it’s by no means a failure to admit that you need a hand with something or that you’re struggling or that you’d prefer not to go along with what’s been suggested because you know you’ll find the day difficult to handle. It’s just knowing yourself and being honest about yourself. We’re none of us good at everything, we all have dark days and frustrations,  we all have things we find challenging to deal with (whether physically or emotionally), and there’s no shame in acknowledging that.

I guess it’s about recognising what you can do and are happy with and enjoy doing. Focusing on those things rather than engaging in what my friend described as self-flagellation through focusing on all the little things at which you’re not perfect is the key. It’s an effort at first, but after a while it simply becomes the revised, kinder-to-yourself version of you.

I know she reads this blog periodically, so hopefully she’ll take this all in the spirit in which it’s intended. It really struck a chord with me, both because it seemed so familiar in many ways to what I’ve felt and experienced myself and because, well, I hate to hear a friend struggle and wish I could instantly drop my view of her, or the view of her than any of her friends or her husband has, into her brain to replace the one she has which is not nearly kind enough to herself.

She is, frankly, an amazing woman – funny, clever, a fantastic friend and I’m pretty sure her husband and children think she’s awesome too – but she apologises for herself too much. You don’t need to, m’dear. You’re awesome as you are – and as seems to so often be the case you’re the person who seems to realise it the least. You know where I am if you need a friendly ear – and I reckon it’s about time a ladies’ night out was planned. Whaddya say?