Introducing a new column about her stylistic misadventures, Diane Shipley, co-editor of our sister site Trashionista, writes…
What is a fashion misfit?
The long answer is that it’s someone who can’t quite get into fashion, however hard she tries. Someone more prone than average to fashion disasters, who attempts to get the right look and occasionally succeeds, but more often fails miserably. Someone in serious need of a personal, professional wardrobe assistant at all times.
The short answer is that it’s – hello!- me.
For a long time, I didn’t realise that’s what I was. I thought I fitted in just fine – I was young and foolish. Later, I knew better. From the bonfire night in the ‘80s when I controversially wore a second-hand beret (there were shocked looks all round and a lot of mumbling; no one in my small village seemed to have seen such headwear before - way too fashion-forward) to the disastrous day I tried out tapered stonewashed jeans with zips and bows up the back and was openly mocked all day long, I consistently got it wrong throughout my school years. Finally my secondary school introduced a “standard dress code” and I think part of the reason was to save me from myself.
As I’ve got older, it’s almost impressive how dramatically I’ve failed to get the hang of ‘working a look’. Sometimes I happen upon an outfit or style that works for me, completely by accident, and of course I wear it to death and people beg me to stop… so I try to move on, but can find nothing to suit me and the whole sordid cycle begins again. I love clothes, it’s just fashion I can’t get the hang of. Sometimes I stare at magazines, trying to memorise the clothing combinations in the hope that the ability to put together a selection of outfits will stick in my brain, but I fear it might be a talent, like speech, that has to be acquired by a young age or it can never be mastered.
Since I’ve put on weight, things have got even worse. It’s harder than ever to find stuff that’s reasonably priced, suits me, looks OK and in which I can pretend I look like Gwen Stefani or Dita von Teese. (I like my idols quirky).
But there is some good news: I’ve realised I’m not alone in my misfit-ness. I think every woman has an inner misfit, I just let mine out more than most. All of us have got it wrong at some time or other. Some days you have other things on your mind when you’re getting dressed and only later realise that you’re wearing blue tights with an all-black outfit, or a sleeveless top when you haven’t shaved your armpits (leading me, I mean you, to keep your coat on all day). At the very least, we’ve all experimented, going out in styles that should never have left the house. Especially in the 1980s.
So I’m going to try to see myself as a fashion trailblazer, sometimes misunderstood, occasionally triumphant but more often than not a misfit – and proud of it.
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