swagger



I woke up this morning and knew exactly what I wanted to wear. No hesitations, no fussing, no deliberations in front of my closet, frantically pulling things out and surveying them in the light (as if that would make any kind of difference). No. This morning I had my exact "first day of the new semester at uni" outfit in mind. Except that I didn't own any of it. Actually, that's not true, I owned most of it. I had the oatmeal sweater and sand-coloured tee shirt for baggy neutral layers up top, the clingy black jersey midi-skirt, the suede ankle boot with a low heel fantastic for walking all over campus. Just not that glorious Isabel Marant burgundy wool coat. I actually went to my wardrobe ready to pick it out in the hopes that it had just materialised. I'm desperate to wear it. I have a million hundred outfits planned and they all revolve around it. I don't think I've ever fallen this hard, this fast for an item of clothing before. Even Minty Wang wasn't quite love at first sight - it was more like love at first Stevie. I think it might have something to do with the way that La Garconne styles their lookbooks. That comfortable, worn in slouch is the kind of look I aim for everyday. It made me so happy this morning when a great friend that I hadn't seen in ages commented that my brothers and me had a bit of "swagger". Not "swagger" in the Ke$ha kind of "kick 'em to the curb" way, but "swagger" in the hands thrusted in the pockets, boots kicked in, baggy coat kind of swagger. It's normally a bad sign for me when I start dreaming up outfits to go with a prospective purchase. I mean, that happened for the Carly Hunter Shearling Vest and look where that got me.

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