PONDEREL

It is confirmed: the hours spent in front of the screen, eyes glazed over, reflecting endless captured moments of shining treasure-trove embellishments affixed onto the ensembles of street-prowlers has seeped into my seldom-impressionable mind and lured me into applying for a membership to a club to which I’ve never before belonged. A slave to crisp white collars, finding comfort in falling back on statement neck pieces to bring my element of bling, I have ventured beyond my well-memorised formula and bought into a world I’ve only ever before observed. I blame Anna Dello Russo, though I’m not certain that blame is the correct word. Today was a day of firsts for me, for it was during my inaugural visit to mass-fash-monster TOPSHOP (a powerhouse which I have previously shied away from, perhaps unreasonably), that a skirt whose surface was overgrown with myriad shining, mirrored surfaces of a green-y gun-metallic hue caught my eye. Ever one who is childishly thrilled by surprising, minute coincidental coordinations that may occur within an ensemble, my mind immediately wandered to my old faithful Lanvin neck warrior, who has fought for my outward appearance endlessly over the past couple of years. How perfectly the tiny pupil of green would mimic and reflect the sea-like tones of this glimmering garment. An influx of imagery absorbed through the computer screen over the past few weeks flashed before my eyes, and suddenly I saw the fine details of fancification that I have seen sported successfully by others transitioning into my own wardrobe and becoming relevant to the androgynous archive that hangs draped on the rail. Another flash, and I stood on Regent Street clutching both receipt and purchase in my hand, feeling oddly liberated about the opportunity to create my own sequined street sequences.

Mar 7
Chain Invasion