How do I look?

A girl walks past. Tall and fair skinned with a light dusting of freckles. Blonde hair, cut short in a bob, blows in the wind as she strides down the street with purpose. This is no longer the girl of sixteen; an unhealthy size six with an obsession for colorful beaded jewelry; nor is this the girl of eighteen, a large size twelve with a penchant for band t-shirts and excessive amounts of black eyeliner. This is me, just turned twenty-two, comfortable in my size ten to twelve clothes and on the brink of a new life in a new city. Gone are the extremes of size and style; replaced by a look more representative and refined. The rose tinted glasses of youthful naivety have been replaced by thick rimmed Chanel frames-testament to a love of the classic, iconic designers and signal of aspirations beyond a modest bank account, riddled by four years of student loans. As a graduate living in London for the first time everything seems vibrant, fresh and exciting. The city is a vast playground to live out dreams and aspirations-fantasizing about a Sex and the City style existence of labels and love whilst living in a dusty rental, eating noodles and sharing wardrobe space. It’s times like these when you learn to get creative and forage for a new style. Old Topshop dresses and Zara skirts are given an edge when paired with vintage denim, antique jewelry passed down from grandparents, mum’s old designer handbags and a well made pair of leather shoes. Disposable fashion from cheap stores is being phased out and replaced by vintage items with history and pieces chosen with thought for their longevity and classic shape. The feminine influence of family and friends has finally won through and secured a love of animal and floral print dresses, floaty skater skirts and 50s style playsuits. This more refined aesthetic is reflected, not just through clothes, but also with hair and make-up. After several years of experimenting with drastic dye jobs, cheap extensions and damaging straightening irons I have dismissed the unreality of a Brigitte Bardot style mane in favor of the chop. A short, sharp ‘do which is hassle free, simple and unpretentious. I’d like to think it is reflective of the fact that I no longer strive to differentiate myself from the crowd the way I did as an introverted and insecure teen. Remnants of my younger selves do, however remain. The Goth in me still perseveres in creating a uniform of all black and would love a collection of studded cuffs to rival Kate Lanphear. The girly girl still lusts after sparkling, precious gems. Androgynous tailoring one day; a-line skirts the next. Such is life in the fast paced city.