About a Girl
I haven’t always had a penchant for men’s clothing. In fact if you had asked people circa 18 months ago they would have described my style as feminine, but generally relatively unremarkable and certainly not outlandish in any way (except for those thigh high white boots I bought, those were pretty ridiculous). This blog stemmed from the nomadic lifestyle of an almost-girlfriend living in London, when your sort-of-boyfriend lives on the other side of the sprawling city to you.
We’ve all been in the initial throes of a relationship, where dates see you pack a spare pair of knickers, the contents of your make up bag and toothbrush in a handbag that a Ryanair stewardess would turn away with a scarlet-lipped guffaw. One morning a week you walk of shame (stride of pride depending on how you look at it) your way into the office, head down, hoping no one will notice your wardrobe déjà vu.
These first months of a relationship see a woman reduced to finding victory of Napoleonic proportion in the smallest of gains – an invitation for your toothbrush to join his overlooking the sink, an unrealistically small corner of a drawer to fit a week’s worth of belongings in, and the inclusion of Nescafe in his normally weekly caffeine free shop.
It has been said that couples look increasingly alike as their relationships develop. Well in my case, the first ten months of my romantic affair saw my 5ft2 frame became a mannequin for largely sized ASOS and Gant Rugger menswear. Ashamed to wear the same pair of trousers for the fourth day running, I learnt to safety pin chinos, team striped size 11 socks with my size 4 brogues and turn tank-sized knitwear into stylish mini-dresses. And so a love for menswear was born, and consequently so was this blog.
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