a week at home for the christmas festivities meant a week of backhanded compliments, misguided advice, plain old misunderstanding and mostly me feeling foolish. cue lots of sighing and patient smiles from all parties; a week with the 'ultimate style jury', the parents...
christmas eve, mums house, in response to denim jacket layered under my leather biker jacket combo:
mother: where's your winter coat?
daughter: i didn't bring it
mother: why not?
daughter: it's too heavy to carry
mother: why didn't you wear the coat?
daughter: i didn't want to be all hot and bothered on the train down
daughter: i didn't want to be all hot and bothered on the train down
mother: well there's no chance of that now, silly girl.
christmas day, dads house, in response to my (gorgeous) tan leather huge wedge loafers:
dad: you look like a giant
daughter: hardly, i'm just normal height
dad: well, your making me nervous, take them off
daughter: but they make my legs look nice and this outfit looks rubbish with out them
dad: your clomping about like a retard, take them off
boxing day, seafront walk, in response to my chunky knit over sized cardigan and my fave charity shop find.
dad: what's that horse blanket?
daughter: what horse blanket?!
dad: that, (points at cardigan) that horse blanket you're wearing
boxing day evening, at mums, filling me with confidence as always, whilst getting ready to go for drinks in town:
daughter: do you think 23 is too old for knee high socks?
mother: not really, anyway you hardly look 23 do you
daughter: well what do you think about these tights with holes and ladders in
mother: that's NEVER EVER okay darling
mother: that's NEVER EVER okay darling
daughter: well what do you think of the jumper? (camel chunky knit slightly cropped jumper)
mother: its a bit 80's isn't it
30th december, mums house, packing case and getting things together for the return to London home:
daughter: i hate traveling back to london after christmas, i always look like such a bag lady
mother: you've always been a bit of a bag lady though haven't you darling
daughter: no, i like hand bags mum, that's different