Aside from doing a good amount of walking, pub-lunching and holding my phone in the air for signal, I also spent a fair bit of time on holiday tapping out thoughts on A/W style. That whole back-to-school feeling that sees me trying to be all new-year, new-you. It’s why I first plucked my eyebrows fifteen years ago, why I walked into AS-level Psychology with half my hair cut off (literally, these were the asymmetric years) and why I really, really believe I’m gonna grow up this time. I’ll wear ironed clothes and have neat hair and not be distracted by silly crap OH WAIT THERE’S A HOT DOG JUMPER!
Whatyougonnado? Who knows what is hardwired in my brain to love trash, but it’s a strong urge. I mean, hell I was window-shopping Cos this morning but you just can’t beat it out of me.
Of course, there’s trash and there’s trash. I’m well aware that these River Island doozies have turned up after a long long trickle-down of all-over-print items and I’ve seen some polyester sweatshirts up close – full-on Monets. I’ve also had a bad experience as regards hot dog print – this Ashish for Topshop number had the most bizarre shape that just would not sit right.
If they’re decent IRL, the decision rests on hot dog vs macaron. I prefer the former to eat a million times over but the sheer brash UFO-ness of the latter is calling out to me. It’s so far removed from the muted, bokeh-laden images of macarons that litter t’internet that I feel pretty alright about it. Elsewhere on my RI browse, I was hoping from the still-life that this little number said ‘Pickles Youth’, but alas it doesn’t. Probs for the best, eh.