10 things about my style - #5 places to go, people to see.

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“Our battered suitcases were piled on the sidewalk again; we had longer ways to go. But no matter, the road is life.” Jack Kerouac


One of the most fascinating things about individual styles is where people get their inspiration from. Sometimes this is clearly identifiable, like the young woman skipping down the street in a blue frock, white tights and black bow headband has clearly taken a peek into Alice in Wonderland's wardrobe. Or the woman wearing the bellbottom jeans and peasant shirt is still revelling in the hippie heyday of the '70s. 
Inspiration can also be a little bit hidden. Sometimes it can even be a touch elite - who can appreciate that you've smeared your lips with red lipstick and worn messy bed hair is a nod to Jen Brill if they don't actually know who Jen Brill is, or that you're painstakingly constructed outfit of super tight super short crayola neon bandage dresses and overshirts is recalling Christopher Kane's first fashion show and not your average 90s hooker if they never saw that show? 
Inspiration is also intensely personal. There are things you can be inspired by, but not necessarily emulate - kate lanphear would be an example of that for me. Unfortunately to emulate la lanphear you need the figure of a ballerina, the half shorn head of a rock star and the bank balance of a millionaire, a hefty combination. But even though pleated pants and studded wedges might not be a mainstay in my wardrobe I am constantly inspired by the idea of 'luxe minimalism' that lanphear exhorts.  One of my best friends worships at the temple of Scarlett Johanssen, and yet would never venture out of the house in figure hugging frocks and cleavage baring tops. Even though her style is far more demure, she likes to take note of Scarlett's confidence and the way she holds herself, hoping to recreate that same self-assured swagger to her walk. 
However, the thing that really inspires me is not people, or movies, or even music. The thing that drives my imagination wild and sends me searching through my wardrobe for an outfit are places. What i actually mean by that, of course, is travel. I am lucky to have done as much travel as i have, thanks in part to parents who believed that seeing the world was more important than renovating our house (ramshackle and shabby chic has always been more of my thing anyway). And it is undeniable that these opportunities and experiences have shaped the way I dress today. 
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Principle among these inspirations is London. The city of constant evolution and metamorphosis, the city of a thousand wardrobes. When i was younger and hopelessly devoted to rock music my motorcycle jacket clad self was clearly inspired by a renegade Sid Vicious character, similarly the leopard print coat I used to swing over my shoulders was a nod to Marianne Faithful and the 'swinging' 60s. Later my penny loafers and tea dresses was a style formed through 'alexa chung watching' and was as london as it was librarian. Even now when I dress in my stella mccartney fleece blazer its sharp tailoring calls to mind Saville Row and a bygone era of the dandy. English Summers are never far from my mind when I don socks and sandals with flirty skirts and trench coats in the wet days of spring. 

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France, in particular Paris and the country towns of Rouen and Rennes are also high on the list of inspirations within my day to day wardrobe. My closet, like almost any fashionista I would argue, is brimming with 'french basics' - the striped breton top, the white shirt, the pencil skirt, the super high simple heels, the LBD, the red lipstick, the pashmina, the trench coat, the leggings, the ballet flats... and though these pieces can individually teleport an outfit from paddington to paris sometimes my style can be more clearly identified with gallic charm.  Certain outfits, like my flouncy vanessa bruno sandwashed silk tired skirt and a striped crop top, transform me from a schoolgirl into a chic seductress, walking the streets after a rendez-vous or two. My colourful mustard yellow full skirt and a cashmere jumper in red or green bring to mind the 1950s in a small french town, buying baguettes to eat with cheese and ham by the riverside. 
The reason I pair things together - like my lanvin vintage sheer flower shirt and structured checked skirt - is because it reminds me of a place I've been or makes me feel a little bit more, well, global. The pairing of that shirt and skirt recalls a winter I spent in Paris where I had packed too little clothes and wore this combination in various ways (tucked in, half out, tied up, loose and flowy) in an attempt to recreate the nonchalant elegance that I saw around me. When I pair my dusky purple swing coat I snatched from the 'buy it now' bin in topshop in desperate need of a coat with full skirts and distressed jeans to remind me of a London sojourn with the best of friends, discovering Brick Lane, Liberty and Pizza Express. 

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And, i suppose, I am inspired by Australia too, in an odd way. I'm not enamoured of my home country, but I must admit I can be rather patriotic when I want to. What inspires me about Australia, in particularly Sydney, is laid-back glamour. Sydney is all about the 'who gives' attitude, it comes from the fact that we have great weather (most of the year) and are surrounded by beaches. Though I may not wear denim cut-offs or parade around in nothing but a bikini I do love the bright colours of Sydney designers and the easy glamour of their clothes. Josh Goot is my favourite Australian designer, his tye dye skirt that moves like a dream, as if you were suspended on a rain cloud, will always recall Sydney summers where all you can do is lounge around by the pool drinking ice tea and gossiping incessantly. When i think of Sydney i also think of white, we like our white - white walls, white floors, white furniture, white jeans, white teeth - I don't know what it is. But Bassike basics and plain white tee shirts will always seem to me very Australian, the quintessential laid back beach girl, who only needs sunglasses and a bright smile. 

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Funnily, I am inspired by New York not to wear stiletto heels a la Miss Bradshaw and co, or even plaid and headbands like Blair Waldorf and the Gossip Girl crew, but something rather different. Because of the New York that I have seen and have been exposed to, New York dreams always inspire me to wear leggings and loose dresses, paint splattered shifts and big parkas. These things and more remind me of spending hours watching my friend at her ballet classes, and then afterwards mucking around at her father's gallery. She used to go from class to life, layering leggings and shifts over her leotard and tights (it was January, after all). This New York girl wasn't necessarily all about the designer labels and cupcakes from magnolia bakery, more about baking your own cupcakes in threadbare tee shirts and flowy skirts completely impractical for the kitchen. 


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It's not just the places I have visited that inspire me, but also those that I have never been to, except in my imagination. There are days in summer, gloriously hot days of course, where I dress up in a flouncy printed circle skirt, shirt and headscarf and pretend that the paved streets I am wandering will lead to a Florentine square with the promise of sweet gelati and a vespa ride to a country villa. When cold in my godmother's mountain holiday house I pretend to be a Russian heiress in her furs and lace up boots, found in the back of a spare bedroom wardrobe. Cheesecloth cotton shirts with armfuls of bangles and colourful wrap skirts make me long for a holiday in India, where the air is thick with spices. 
While I am not always in some far off country when I dress, more often that not I choose things, and pair things together because of far flung locations. It's the restlessness about me, I suppose, I like to think that I am a travelling soul. And it's a nice though to think that even when my feet are firmly on Australian soul I can still appear, if only to myself, as a french ingenue, or london it girl, or new york bright young thing, or scottish landed gentry. If you see me on the streets wearing a barbour, wellingtons and shirt dress don't be alarmed, just picture me traipsing across a Yorkshire moor, and all will make sense.
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