Impromptu

A little spontaneity never goes amiss. In fact, nothing like a day seemingly stale – productive in a lacklustre way, with too many interludes on twitter – then lightened by an on-the-spot decision to go out and do something.
On this particular evening, about a month ago (when I was still back at home before returning to university), the ‘something’ was relatively simple: a drive and stroll in the early evening light. I’d spent the afternoon moping around feeling a bit under the weather and generally sorry for myself. So after umming and aahing over dinner, I agreed to go out – only stopping to grab a pair of socks and the nearest cardigan. As dad drove, the slant of the sun grew ever more spectacular – the car winding its way higher into the hills, the golden wash of grass and valley beneath.
I had on what I’d been wearing for a day of work – no make-up, and (I have a feeling) with my hair still un-brushed. There’d been no suggestion of anything other than a walk, and, possibly for dad, some wildlife photography. But I couldn’t help myself: “daaaad, look at the flowers, they match my dress – just one shot!” Well, one shot – and then another, and another, and another…
At first, I’d been hesitant. Here I had nothing to hand – not even a belt to shape up the saggy dress, or a stray eyeliner hidden in a pocket. Nothing. Just the surroundings and the sunshine and some very messy curls. But it felt liberating – all the more freeing for the lack of care or perfectionism. Yes, I had spots on my chin. Yes, this was an outfit more practical than planned. Yes, my throat was killing and my chest hurting for some unknown reason (I’d woken up with it that morning) – but here I was, swept afresh by the breeze, standing and smiling on a road that felt almost abandoned.
There’s a difference, as there always is, between the experience at the time and the photos that then appear on my blog. The latter captures something of the former, but only a condensed moment or two – something shaped and framed for a specific purpose, and a specific platform.
So here I am, as it is with every post, showcasing an outfit and appearance, a visual identity. I’m a little less groomed this time – but no more or less real. It’s how I spend roughly half my days, depending on what I’m doing. Sometimes I’ll dress to the nines for a morning spent writing in my room – or spend a day without even dragging a comb over my head (they are rare though...) Yet it feels like all of this gains another context on a blog ostensibly devoted to style and culture.
Does appearing without make-up and other accoutrements become a more political choice, contradicting the usual ‘perfection’ often expected of style bloggers?
To me, it’s just another way of looking. It lacks the accentuation or playfulness of red lipstick, mascara and the like – the potential to flatter or highlight certain aspects with colour, kohl and powder. Instead it’s another angle, another mode of presentation – albeit one with less effort involved.
But I don’t feel any real ‘liberation’ in it. It’s no sacrifice. It doesn’t feel brave, or that I’m saying anything particularly beyond the fact that I’m comfortable enough in my own skin (most of the time) to put this up.
But maybe it’s easy for me to say that? I sit (and fit) relatively close to various societally constructed ideals when it comes to appearance. My skin is mostly pretty clear, my features – apparently – noticeable. I’m happy to play dress up when I want, but also to go out and about with a face unadorned. Perhaps that’s a privilege afforded to me. But it certainly shouldn’t be one based on how near or far you rest from the bizarre cultural tally of what constitutes ‘beautiful’ or ‘acceptable’ – but just how you view yourself.
All items worn here are second hand, amassed from various charity shops. The cardigan is vintage Jaeger.
In other news, it was Day of the Girl on Saturday October 11th and I wrote something for All Walks Beyond the Catwalk on young women, violence and damaging fashion imagery - you can read it here.