An unexpected bonus of following all these mum fashion blogs is that I've suspected for a while that this spring and summer, fashion loves me. Since skinny jeans took over, I've had a nagging suspicion that designers hate women. They came in just after the glorious summer of boho: floaty skirts, necklaces, flowers. I thought this happened just a few years ago...turns out that the year Sienna Miller dictated the high street was actually 2005. It's been 11 years since I felt this happy by the shops. 11 years. Fuck, I'm old. I think everybody stops ageing at some point in their head. For me, it was that summer. I'd just moved to London. I was working in Covent Garden at a start-up before start ups became a thing. I had a new, lovely boyfriend, and a fabulous sister staying with me. The sun shone and shone, as we drank and danced and fought and grew up; I don't think I've ever been as happy, or lived as hard. Thank you Sienna.
But this year, there are some good signs. It turns out that we're all going to be dressing like it's the 90s. I bought dungarees on Saturday! Dungarees!!! And I have two pinafore dresses! And I'm eyeing up some off-the-shoulder tops. Most flattering thing ever for small-busted girls worried about the mumtum - you cannot have flab on your shoulders. Sexy without worrying about toning or support wear. White trainers and denim shirts. Mum jeans - I'm a mum! I can totally wear these! I'm going to re-watch Friends, and dress like Rachael.
Best summer ever. I cleared out my wardrobe (the Life-Changing Magic of tidying up has kind of been changing our house this year) so I have space.
So thank you, gods of fashion. I know in the winter we will be punished with something even worse than bodycon dresses. But for a few months, I'm going to lunge in my dungarees and feel a bit more like I belong.
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