Today was the second day I went out with a tag left inside a recently bought piece of clothing because I’m still on the fence about it. I’ve worn it all day, this dress from Zara, pairing it with tights, a sweater vest and some under the knee boots* which I am as equally unsure about. I’ve been on a walk, to the pharmacy, checked the postbox, taken out the recycling, made lunch and sat in various rooms in the flat in order to reach a conclusion about whether or not to keep the dress.
My wardrobe is reminding me of what it was like to go from wearing school uniform every day to the chaos of dressing in my own clothes for sixth form, aka never sure which personality 17 year old me was going to channel when I woke up. Flinging open the cupboards of my closet every morning and acknowledging that I hate 98% of my clothes, yet feeling determined to make them work in new and exciting combinations, is becoming a slight pre 9am thrill for me. Only slight.
So I suppose this is my 678th return to blogging after a brief jaunt away to enjoy whatever Christmas season we just experienced in the UK.
My flatmates and I successfully cooked a Christmas dinner together (my first ever away from home, scroll for a snap) and I am pleased to say that it was a roaring success. A combination of vegan and non-vegan food was consumed with joy before I spent the hours which followed in a weird sparkling wine-fuelled daze. I never believed it would be possible to grow tired of a city but I do believe London will grind me down to a fine enough (and small enough) point that I will eventually slip between the ever-growing gaps in our floorboards, stuck in the grasps of our capital city forever. The only remedy I can think of right now is getting 14 tattoos and piercings once we are ‘out the other side’ of 'this' - whatever that means.
Did I think about a possible New Year's resolution during the strange days that reside between the 25th and 31st of December? Not really, but I do want to try and be present, listen to more podcasts and truly love life. I turned 25 just before lockdown was implemented in England last year, and as I'm hurtling towards 26 I'm determined to make the best of 2021, however short it may be.
Now in a national lockdown for six weeks (which was needed waaaay before Christmas) I wonder what we'll all look like when we emerge mid-February? Hopefully stronger, with a protected NHS and our mental states intact. Do I dare to dream after 2020?
*are not all boots under the knee?
I hope all my readers and their loved ones are safe and well in what again is a very uncertain time.
Until my next sporadic post,
Buh-bye xoxo
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