Let’s go back to the start…

Oh hello there, long time no speak.

How’ve you been? How’s the family?

Lots has been going on since I last updated this blog. I won’t bore you with all the details (I’m sure you don’t want to hear what I do on an average Tuesday, for example), but here are some highlights:

The Boy and I (finally) moved in together; into a beautiful house with a damp problem, poor chimney ventilation and pipes that go bang in the night, purchased lots of upcycled furniture (mostly from Pip ‘n’ Mix, run by a fabulous wife and husband team) and are now incredibly happy, bickering about whose turn it is to empty the dishwasher/turn the bedroom light off/call the plumber.

We bought a cat, called her Oswin (after a character in Doctor Who, because we just keep getting cooler as the months and years go by) and treat her the way most people reserve for particularly pampered toddlers.

In the last year or so, the shopping ban has taken not so much of a back seat as a ‘in the boot of the car six vehicles behind’. I’ve become a bit of a retro fashionista, and have the wardrobe to prove it. I look forward to talking you through the intricacies of pin curls and snoods, the minefield of retro vs modern clothes sizing, and all manner of vintagey delights!

To tease you a bit (I know, I’m mean like that), here are some of the things I’ll be talking about in the coming weeks…

Dollie Mixtures, a lovely little vintage salon in Hitchin

Why going to Ikea on a Sunday is a Very Bad Idea (it’s a cliche for a reason…)

Lindy Bop, a website of wondrousness (as long as you like retro reproduction dresses)

Lady V London, as above

A passionate defence of why it’s okay to be a bit in love with Alan Rickman, even when he’s playing Snape in the Harry Potter films, greasy hair and all

The aforementioned Pip ‘n’ Mix

The prettiness and pitfalls of retro dresses (hint: Running down escalators feature heavily)

Also, one last thing…I’m starting my weight-loss journey (God, I hate that phrase – what I mean is, I’m fed up of being ‘The Chubby One’, so I’ve decided to get of my decidedly squidgy bum and do something about it) this week, so you should look forward to various food-based (or should I say, lack-of-food-based) rants in the coming months. It’s going to be one hell of a journey, but we’ll get there!

It’s that time again….

Happy 2013 everyone!

Well, what with it being a new year and all that, I thought I’d make a few resolutions – one of them is to start writing this blog again regularly (tied into that is not shopping for a whole year, but I’ll get to that shortly). If I’m not writing enough for your liking, or there’s a topic you’d like me to cover, you can follow me on Twitter @fashionfarewell and mention it there!

So, the no clothes shopping rule…it didn’t work out exactly as planned last year (allowing myself to buy one thing a month just opened the floodgates and ended badly – I should have seen it coming), so this year, I’m reinstating the ban. Except for tights. As mentioned in previous blog posts, I have what I like to call a ‘signature look’, which is essentially a dress, a cardigan, a pair of tights and flats (in the summer) or boots (in the winter). I am very clumsy and manage to put my fingers through most pairs, sometimes before I’ve even worn them, so I’ve made an executive decision to allow myself to buy tights. I’ll be honest, I can’t see myself spending £300 a month on them(just as an aside, in case The Boy and/or my lovely Mum are reading this, I do NOT spend £300 on clothes a month, it’s just a random figure), so it should work out just fine. Accessories are also banned, which includes shoes, bags, and belts. But not earrings – I have 14 piercings, 13 of those in my ears, and I lose earrings  a LOT.

Apart from my wardrobe being full to bursting, The Boy and I are  (almost) in the process of buying our first house. So, you know, I need to save money. Or, alternatively, redirect it to sellers of candles, heart-shaped ornaments and waffle throws.

But they’re not my only resolutions, oh no! Over the Christmas period, a couple of helpful souls (let’s call them ‘friends’), brought a couple of things to my attention.

One made a point of telling me how dry my hair’s been looking recently. Which was nice. I personally enjoy being able to impersonate various country-singing personalities (my rendition of ‘Stand by Your Man’ is particularly heart-rending), but if others don’t see the appeal, who am I to disagree? The second told me I’m getting fat (this particular friend mentioned it to me not once, but twice over the Christmas break, just in case I hadn’t heard their soul-crushing pronouncement on my chubbiness the first time).

I was always taught that if you can’t say anything nice, you should say nothing at all, no matter how offensive a person’s halitosis, how dreadful their greasy roots, or their resemblence to a chipolata in that salmon-pink cocktail dress they just ‘had to have’.  But I digress. 

Now, this could easily have gone one of two ways. I’m very stubborn, and have a tendency towards ‘cutting off your nose to spite your face’ defiance. But instead of blowdrying my hair upside down whilst simultaneously tucking into a family-size bag of Doritos, I’ve decided to take what they said, mentally picture myself punching them in the face, and incorporate their ‘suggestions’ into my new year’s resolutions. So I will be aiming to get healthy (going to the gym at least once a week – let’s not get carried away), and will do a hot-oil treatment on my hair once a week.

If you’re a betting sort of person, I can offer you excellent odds on the hot-oil treatment being the first to go.