Tuesday, 18 February 2014

Equin Everyday

Wearing:  St&ard Jean Co. Denim Shirt, Finders Keepers Skirt, Prism London Espadrilles, The Mode Collective Clutch (Similar here and here), Sarina Suriano Earcuff

I've never been one to abide by dress code or be hindered by practicality.

I can recall many a childhood argument with my Mum regarding my tendency to overdress.  Whilst I had no qualms about wearing my fanciest party dress to the beach or the grocery store, my Mum remained a constant hindrance to my sartorial over-ambitions.

I could never understand why one's best and favourite garments must eternally be reserved for some elusively elite event in the impenetrable void that is the future.

Now that I have long surpassed the age during which my Mum has any degree of influence over my fashion choices, I continue to maintain my disregard for all variations of sartorial constraint.  I see no reason in hoarding your most luxe and beautiful possessions for an unfathomable date in the future.

Maybe I'm just impatient, but I think you should have full license to wear your Sunday best every day of the week.

This outfit is an embodiment of my instant-gratification philosophy.  In a singular outfit I have chosen to adorn an earcuff that epitomises bling; a metallic skirt that convention would dictate should only ever be worn at night, in order to make its gaudiness justifiable and a pair of pony skin shoes whose price-point is enough to send even the most exhibitionistic of over-dressers fleeing to seal up the shoe box with masking tape.  By utilising the all encompassing powers of a denim shirt to make any outfit appear casual, I have been able to get away with wearing such indulgent pieces on an uneventful day.

So I say 'power to the people'.  Throw on some sneakers with that new party dress and wear it to run errands.  Slip your most extravagant necklace on over a plain white tee and unapologetically head out to lunch.

#YOLO and whatnot.

Photography: Deneale Sanders

Sunday, 9 February 2014


Wearing:  Roxy Hat, Zimmermann Shirt, Lioness Shorts, Vintage Bag, Rollie Brogues

It's always been floral print.  No other print has ever held the same allure for me.

And I'm not talking dainty, nondescript petals either. I'm discussing big, vivacious, dramatic blooms.  So bold and outrageous that they exist in a perpetual state of instability, teetering on the precipice of overt gaudiness, balancing on a beam thats exact destination cannot be precisely determined by anyone.

Not that I'm one to discriminate.  I'll take floral print in any of its permutations, gaudiness not withheld.

I'm unsure when exactly my fixation on floral print began. Perhaps it was in the early stages of my childhood, when my Mum would dress me in coordinated floral crop top and shorts, not unlike the ensemble to which the shorts you see above belong. Or maybe it was during my 'hippie' phase at the tender age of 12 when, for an entire year I donned nothing but environmental slogan t-shirts and floral maxi skirts; taking immense pride in my collection of long, beaded necklaces.  Thankfully, all that remains of this sartorial era in my life is a continued love for all things floral and a hippie-esque tendency to neglect any leg-shaving endeavours for as long as is hygienically forgivable.

No matter when my floral fetish began, it is an unappeasable addiction that has become inextricable from my sartorial identity.

I've never been the type of girl who particularly appreciates flower bouquets on display.  I prefer my flowers on my person at all times.

Photography: Deneale Sanders