When I Get Home…

…A friend and I are going shopping.

Which is one of many things I am looking forward to about getting past this exam and back home and things.

I want:

new jeans, cut irresponsibly fashionably such that in a year’s time I can no longer wear them because they’re just too directional. I’ve been dressing boringly for far too long now.

A new jacket, sloppy, pastel, blazery, to wear with dresses or jeans, good quality (if you ask me there’s nothing worse than a poor quality jacket).

Shorts in some kind of gorgeous floral print, short and flattering (it’s weird, but on me, things either have to be spectacularly short or below knee length to flatter my legs. Dunno why).

Trousers, you know, like you’ve seen everywhere this season. In sort of beige, probably a bit  tapered, sloppy, good with a basic white t-shirt and irreverently weird sunglasses.

A one-piece, just because other than my pool-swimming costume I haven’t owned one in years. Despite the fact that I already own two bikinis.

New sandals, because mine used to be green and aren’t any more because I’ve worn them too constantly.

Boots. Mine have all died a horrible death.

Deck shoes. I dunno, I’ve just always, always wanted a pair.

Floaty floaty dresses, plural.

Talking of which I discovered Free People today. I like their clothes because although the silhouette of their clothes is pretty current, their clothes are a bit more offbeat because of the prints and fabrics they choose and the way they accessorize them. A sort of half-hippy look. They do some good-looking maxidresses too.

I need to go through my wardrobe and cull some things and stop keeping things just for old time’s sake. Just becuase I wore such and such a hole-ridden pair of jeans constantly when I was sixteen doesn’t mean I have to keep them just because when I look at them I remember what was good about those days. It doesn’t matter.

That was a fantastically frivolous entry. There are people starving in Africa, our country is over-run by Tories, and all I can think about is the perfect summer blazer and whether I can afford prescription sunglasses and whether I can justify buying a car if I pass my test and bother global warming we’re all going to hell in a handbasket so whilst we do I may as well do it in a tin box that goes places and plays music at the same time (magic, yes?).



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6 responses to “When I Get Home…

  1. Flix

    I’m going shopping this afternoon. My degree is done and I have barely spent any money in over a month. My friend owns over fourteen items of swimwear. I am terrified about the outcome of my degree, but there’s not much I can do about that now, is there. I’m going to splash out with my student loan because, hell, if you can’t live frivolously when you’re a student, when can you?

  2. Jenny

    I always end up going shopping after something stressful has occurred. I’m going to have to hold back after this exam though because of the aforementioned shopping trip that’s going to happen when I get home (you have no idea how tempted I am to text the girl in question and set a date *right* *now*).

    And yes – I have started to realise that as a student you can live frivolously in a way that really isn’t possible when you’re no longer a student because once you’re earning you’ll also have more financial commitments, your overdraft will cease to be interest-free, and your parents are less likely to bail you out/feed you if it all goes tits-up. And you’re expected to be grown-up enough not to let it go tits up in the first place.

    So here’s to studenthood, actually. I’ve spent all this time wanting to be an adult and now actually I want to grow back down.


  3. Flix

    Retail therapy, innit. 😀

  4. You’ll be lucky to find any boots now – tisn’t the season! I love shopping and regularly use it as therapy. Trouble is, that all goes to pot when you try on 1001 things and that all make you look like cack.

    Revel in frivolity 🙂

  5. And may I further conform to stereotypes by adding: “Ugh, shopping”.


  6. Oh, the list of things that I want to sew….!

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