Not My Style

I picked up a new phrase over the winter break at home, and influenced Dasiy Hoo into using it during one of our many conversations recently.

"It's not my style."

Since then this phrase has cropped up countless times in my conversations with numerous individuals, mainly, of course, about fashion and the way I dress. And at times, about various other subjects which were breached as well.

Last year when I picked up a beige leather jacket, which I spent ages standing in front of the mirror with a salesgirl by my side offering a zillion and one tips, trying to decide which colour and style suited me best, I was offered the following:

"Yes, you are very girly, aren't you?"

To which I replied, "Yeah. I'm not really into the biker chick look."

Today, while picking up my bow messenger, I decided that 'very girly' wasn't entirely my style either. I was definitely not girly enough to pull off a lavender pink bag, despite agreeing with Daphne a while ago that that colour was indeed oh-so-pretty. I ended up going for a pale bluish-grey tone, to which I thought definitely suited me better.

I am definitely into colours. I love colour blocks and jazzing up an outfit with bits of colour or accessories, but there is just a huge difference between liking pink as a colour and actually wearing a pink bag. Later, I tried defining with Hanna the exact parameters of my sense of style, and could only come up with a couple of negatives. Definitely not low-key. Definitely not understated. Definitely not biker chick. Definitely not cutesy teeny-bopper. Definitely not British-rock-model-KateMoss-esque. Definitely not dowdy.

All I can say is that I like structured stuff. I am versatile (well, to a certain extent). And as much as I know my sense of style is never Vogue-worthy or always perfect, I like it because it makes me comfortable in my own skin.

There are hardly that many items of clothing that one can spot in a store or on a mannequin and exclaim that that is 'soooo Shing'. Simply because there are certain styles that I have a weak spot for (This would be where Daisy Hoo goes: ahempuffedsleevesahem) but it is also a well-known fact that I hardly ever stick to the same style ALL the time. I'm always up for modifying new trends to suit my own style, and not just go with the typical British High Street Fashion TopshopMissSelfridgeEverythingElse Flow.

As much as I try to sound like I am some contributor for a High Fashion magazine, I can hardly deny that my sixth sense of fashion is going rapidly down the drain.

How can it not be when I wake up bleary-eyed and grab the first thing I see, spending most of my days in slacks, shirts and cardigans? Plus, my most recent encounter with Norovirus was pleasant as hell indeed, and sure did contribute even more to my unplanned agenda of shedding more weight. Something that has been happening ever since I got here. Ah well, what can you say? The grass is always greener on the other side. A couple of years ago, I had to have JH lie through his teeth to tell me I was 'oh-so-thin' because I was determined to lose weight on my water diet. Now, I wonder everyday how it is that I try to eat more junk but the opposite happens.

That's what always happens, people. Life.