The fashion industry – and all of its sub-minions:- apparel, makeup, accessories, perfume, jewellery, lifestyle, pharmaceutical and cosmetic accoutrements, models, advertising, publicity, social media influencers, all of the glittering products that tumble and spin in the vogue parade are fascinating and compelling and hypnotic.
I worked in the rag trade from the age of 15 until my early twenties, initially as a Thursday night/Saturdays and school hols junior, and then as a full-timer after year 12. I loved that job, and weirdly, my boss was an angel of fairness and generosity. Consequently I sold a LOT of clothes. I was ridiculously thin back then and I did some modeling and I bought a LOT of clothes. Later I went back to it for a couple of stints in the city a few years ago when I was completing my PhD in order to bring in some much-needed income to our household. It was a good balancer, bursting my brains out teaching and writing a thesis, and hanging out with some hilarious and gorgeous gals in the boutique at the Myer centre. We had a fab’ time and once again, I sold a LOT of clothes. The good part of selling a LOT of clothes is that management tends to loosen its grip of mind-numbing condescension and soul control in how they prescribe best seller methods, and instead they gave me the keys to my own freedom to do it my way. I so need that.
I never shout at customers, I whisper. I create a conspiratorial partnership in which we set out to overcome the challenges of fashion trends versus the real body, and I employ every ounce of my creative thinking to support actual life comfort + style. No point in wearing the latest greatest look if it causes pain, breathlessness, or an inability to sit, squat, bend or stretch.
So my customers liked that approach, the conspiratorial method of beating fashion into submission and being boss-ass bitches was ideal for many. Slaves to the rhythm? Nuh uh.
I’m an ill-fit for the perfume industry and for social media. I’m not hot, not a bae, not wealthy, sassy, gushing with confidence, not glowing from my resort-tanned youth, not a yummy-mummy, not vegan chic, not body elite, not hipster, not lit, not fire (apart from those hot flushes).
A blog is a place to say whatever ya want… to yell at all the things that bug you, and to praise the stuff that’s really your jam. Its a journal of discovery and a soapbox, and I welcome you to visit and comment and contribute if ever you feel the urge. I have deactivated my facebook and my instagram accounts because I really need to break away and take a deep breath.
Instead, I’m focusing my energies on preparing the final touches to my Summer Collection, a selection of private blends that I have kept in the cellar for quite some time. I’ve just been fattening them up a little with a few final flourishes before they are ready for the bright light of day.
Moving is still underway…