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Life with Lavendar in London town

Friday, 27 March 2009

Black Is Back

When I lived in Perth I rarely, if ever dressed in a lot of black. Under the blue skies and sunshine, black just seemed like just a wrong choice to me. I wasn't a fan of neutrals either. Instead I embraced colour. Reds and greens; violet and yellows. Don't get me wrong. I didn't go around looking like a peacock but the Meditteranean climate of my home town meant that I reflected the sunny, warm surrounds in my dress sense. I also had a vague mistrust of people that wore all black (apart from Goths - I like Goths) or all neutrals.

What are they trying to hide?, I would wonder. When there are so many colours to choose from, why would you choose the absence of colour? What's wrong with them?

My oh my - how things have changed.

When I first moved to London, I stubbornly stuck to my love of colour. I was not going to give in. So what if everyone else was in grey or black. Sheep . What's wrong with them? Why are they afraid to stand out?

I must say, this was abit unfair of me at the time and obviously I was only seeing what I wanted to. After all, Londoners are hardly sheep when it comes to dressing. The women have a wonderful unique style of flinging layers and accessories together, usually finished off with a massive, great handbag. The men do the whole Professor thing really well (well cut suit jacket, jeans or trousers, scarf, leather satchel) or embrace the Eurotrash look. I'm generalising of course.

Life was going along swimmingly until one day I woke up and something horrible had happened. I was dressed head-to-toe in BLACK. I looked in the mirror and asked myself,

Why? How could this be?

I blame the long winters. On seeing so much grey, I started to wear it. And black. And neutrals. My theory is that winter makes you want to hibernate. To blend in and not stand out. You don't want to extend your senses to the world around you because you can't even extend your right arm out of your sleeve without getting frostbite. Winter is a season of laying low and hence you present yourself that way to the world.

Hmm. Is that rubbish? Probably. After all Christmas and New Years falls within winter and that is party season with coloured frocks galore and shiny shoes.

Here's my followup theory. London is a dirty place. Who the hell wants to be doing laundry all the time. Wear black and it hides the dirt. Case closed.

That's my excuse anyway.

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