MEMOIRS OF A CHILDHOOD WARDROBE

A Letter to Her

Once I grew out of them, she’d pop them back on eBay to be loved by another little girl. I wonder if witnessing her determination in bagging a bargain is where my love of sourcing second-hand items stems from.

She’d enter bidding wars in the hopes of winning those oaty linen skirts, the type that were covered in little circular mirrors and embellished with tiny little beads. I’d spend hours and hours just twirling about in them, watching them fan out around me, as the beads jangled around.

I’d like to say that my childhood style bears no resemblence to my current style as there have been some pretty questionable out t choices over the years, (picture pink leggings and denim shorts, or the infamous Superdry jacket with the never-ending zips), but I know there’s some items that still bring me comfort. Knit jumpers and cardigans have always been something I nd comfortable and easy, and as I look back at baby photos of myself, there’s rarely a shot of myself without one. But truly my childhood style was just a projection of my mum’s style as she chose how to dress me each day; and like me, she is also never seen without a jumper. What seems most apparent to me is that my choice of clothes as a child just represented an inherent desire to be grown up. Thinking that each new item in my wardrobe represented the next stage in my life. Thinking the rst pair of heels I owned, meant I had entered womanhood. Feeling disappointed that the rst time I left the house with a handbag, wasn’t the mark of my new maturity, but actually just a very practical development in life.

WORDS BY LAUWORDS BY LAURA HARTIG