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Postcards from Italy
Rome - Florence - Venice, September 2011.

Echo Formation

Over-thinking. It’s what I do apparently. Especially when it comes to creative ideas over the last year. They just twist and turn, contorting within the small space between my skull, yet never truly resolving because the doing is essential for that.

One such idea, is a piece deriving from the fashion as a social phenomena theory that circulates. I’ve been a little dubious as to what extent dress can reflect society, and in thinking about past influences, I began to remember the story of Echo & Narcissus. Which made me think of mirrors, as the perfect embodiment of both characters in the tale – vanity and reflection. The question whistling from the corner of my lips was:

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A Built Environment

In the old livejournal days, when times were simpler and the internet was a small excited child, one of my friends made an animated gif of a tree with our in-joke, “I lobe trees” on it. I was 13 then, and displayed it for longer than is probably wise to admit to now. But, we can say this was the beginning of my now blossoming interest in sustainability – and obviously, a fondness for trees.

Like any good soul who wants to infiltrate a field does, research is the start. When researching Thalia Warren, I found knitwear label Chinti + Parker. As a sucker for a well-made website and design that does not rely on its ethical tag for a USP, I made mental notes to check back when I had more time. And check back I did, to find a collaboration with famed design studio, Patternity.

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Cynosure

15.11.10: Thrifted black trousers; borrowed floral shirt & yellow jacket; hand-me-down twisted chain necklace

A good few years have passed since I participated in that old pastime of outfit blogging. It's not really something I think much to do these days. Partly because there are enough people documenting their clothing online, and partly because my wardrobe seems a little lacklustre at times. I would say money and time are the causes, but that would indicate that interestingness in appearance is dictated by those factors. My idealistic notions do not wish to believe that, though our current fashion system does seem to suggest money and time are the lifeblood of this, so-called interestingness in dress.

Sometimes, I remember the practice of photographing an outfit though. Locating the trusty tripod, before darting backwards and forwards within the 10 second timer on the camera – I never had a photographer boyfriend, as the running joke dictates. Documenting chance outfits is not something I would say I ever truly enjoyed, but it was something I did. Because I liked clothes. Because I was exploring my aesthetic preferences and sense of style. And most of all, because I was intrigued by how all these appearance related matters, could alter perceptions both internally and externally.

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Beaumont

I stand out upon the balcony, blistering darkness still permeating my vision. The morning air holds still, cold but gentle, as it whistles silently alongside my ear. My head pounds, weary from the night long gone. Flickering flashbacks roll along the skyline, like a broken television set in someone else’s dream. Somewhere behind, careful breaths pace the quiet brown study my mind has fallen pray to. In and out, in and out; a reminding shiver along an otherwise lonely spine.

Suddenly, through the distant valley, a sun ray cracks the dark void, scattering my loose illusions into dust. I stand still, filling my lungs with fresh morning dew. My eyes wander, watching the light rise and caress the desolate mountaintop before me.


Every so often, I become bored of texting the simple “hi, how are you?” to my friends. This is what Kaylea received some time ago. She told me I should be writing novels shortly after. I think she liked it.

Needle Focus

Embroidery details
Witnessed in 2011, at Bath Fashion Museum

The Little Things

Life, with all its funny twists and turns, often leaves me confused. Perhaps it’s due to my constant thinking or perhaps it’s just that the world can be shambolic, and negotiating your way through it isn’t always a barrel of laughs. Nevertheless, we continue forth because Pandora’s box let hope escape too, so we can believe that things have a strange way of working out for the best.

To quote the ineffable Monty Python:

“…when life looks jolly rotten, there’s something you’ve forgotten, and that’s to laugh and smile and dance and sing”

Truer words never spoken.

Sometimes, the smiles come from the little things. The quirky details in an outfit. The glow-in-the-dark face on your watch. The unexpected card from a friend at a difficult time. The funny little late night conversations. The spontaneous dances. Sharing music, books, knowledge, thoughts and ideas with other souls. Making things. And really, just being a little bit more bloody grateful for everything you can surround yourself with.

The only other thing is time. Time to figure out who you are and what you believe, and the things you hope for. Words are the easy bit really, but the time it takes to understand the pieces of your puzzle? That is invaluable.