The day that my Stepmum has heralded ever since I first told her I was having surgery has definitely arrived. I woke up this morning full of the joys of a spring Saturday stretching ahead of me with nothing to fill it apart from some Olympic standard sofa surfing, a bit of writing and a telephone call from the handsome Scoobs. Had a shower as usual and came out smelling like a heavily perfumed fruit bowl, skipped back into my room to get dressed and then WHAM.
I hate dressing like a boy. I hate making ‘safe’ fashion choices that means I always end up wearing indigo blue bootcut jeans with a vesty style top and a baggy/chunky knit cardigan to cover up my bingo wings. I’d love to be brave enough to step outside of my style comfort zone and experiment with skirts, dresses, smart trousers and the like but without fail I head back to the boring predictable bootcuts.
I need an Aunty Gok in my life who can pull me up by the bootstraps and get me out of my fail safe student uniform, get my loving my height and embracing my curves. Not an easy task, even for a fashion wunderkind like Gokky – I think I’m surgically attached to my jeans. I’d love to have a classic and elegant wardrobe, something to really flatter my figure and give me that confidence boost that I so often need. I think the reason I always feel like such a bumpkin when I go up to meet with lovely book agent is because everyone always looks so put together whereas I frequently look like I have rolled out of bed, grabbed the nearest thing off the rack at George at Asda and hopped on the train. Embarrassingly enough, Columbus asked me what my favourite clothes shop was…. my answer? ‘George at Asda’. Cringe. I then went on to tell him my shopping strategy – get in, grab, get out.
I think that answer marks me out as some sort of clothes degenerate, someone who doesn’t care enough to invest time and money in herself to take pride in her clothes. That couldn’t be further from the truth! I’d love to be clothes savvy and have a beautifully put together wardrobe but I just don’t know where to begin.
If anyone out there has a magic wand, give it a wave and send a sartorial Godmother my way hey? She doesn’t have to pay, I’m more than happy to pony up the cash if only I knew what I should splash out on. If any of you lovely readers (most of you have more style in your little finger than I do in my entire body) have any hints, tips, tricks or the like then feel free to have at it in the comments, tweet me or email me. Where do I start? *confused face*