Today whilst out searching for a pair of boots to wear this Autumn/Winter (on which I could write a whole separate odyssey - just shout if you have any interest in hearing about that) I was dragged into the shop Fornarina.
This is one shop which definitely isn't my style. Hideously expensive, polyester and euro-trash I think you could probably sum it up by the fact that Lindsay Lohan is the face of Fornarina. Still, it was an interesting visit. For one, one of the shop assistants turned out to be someone I vaguely knew, which was fun. Secondly, I found myself drawn to a vivid green leather jacket with huge sleeves which I simply had to try on, even though I knew I wouldn't buy it. Because
a) It was £300
b) It was Fornarina
c) It was green!
I'll admit that these reasons get mildly more unreasonable and prejudiced as we go along. Truthfully, I would have probably forgiven the label. But I seriously cannot remember the last item of clothing I owned in the colour green. When I think of that colour I only have hazy recollections of having a whole wardrobe comprising of different shades of khaki, apple, jade and neon green. Apparently, it suited me. Oh, and the running shoes I bought a couple of weeks ago have some green on them, but they were the only colour on sale; I promise I did ask if they had pink.
Maybe I just over-dosed on it as a child. Maybe it's a force of will thing; a rebellion against what I was involuntarily dressed in. Thinking back, I can remember having some sort of complex about people not believing that my eyes are green, telling me that they are hazel, and me believing that this must be because they were comparing my eyes to my bright green top, which could never realistically occur in nature. Then there's the time I came into school with new red glasses and my lovely friend pointing out to me that they clashed with my green clothes: 'Red and green should never be seen without a colour inbetween - apart from on a Christmas tree!'
Either way, as you can see, none of my reasons probably made much sense.
Anyway, I tried this jacket on. For those who are curious, click on this link to see it on a model on the site.
And ohmygod I suddenly realised why my parents were obsessed with colouring my outfits in green and why my mother still hasn't stopped buying me green scarves every single year. Seriously; I am not being vain; I am normally the epitome of self-deprecation (yeah, you can ignore my blog name for a moment here...). My eyes were popping with colour. My broken-out skin - so spotty this weekend I had to be dragged out of my bedroom door - was somewhat calmed. My hairwhich people have been recently commenting has got much darker, looked more ginger than it has in years!
Wise colour lover Sal of Already Pretty blog wrote a post on colour recently where she claimed that colours can have an extreme, serious impact on how you look. My fashionista aunt was recently telling me that in her shop she always focuses on choosing a colour for a client; that it is a million times more important than anything else, even cut and style. I always poo-poo this idea. It's hard enough finding something that flatters my figure with my bordering-on-body-dysmorphia paranoia when it comes to mirrors. It's probably even harder satisfying my picky to the extent of scaring-people-away-from-buying-me-presents-pickiness taste. So I just stick to common colours like grey, black and blue (and pink! never forget pink! the feelgood properties of this colour are so extensive that you can always find something in pink!) most of the time.
But I loved this green on me so much that I am seriously considering reversing the ban on green. There is, of course, the slight problem that I have just bought three tops none of which contain green, and today a grey pencil skirt, and somehow I doubt green boots will have the same effect. Maybe I'll just start by wearing of those green scarves.