- The Perm
That’s me on the left, holding the pork chop at my dad’s wedding.
To be fair, it was the eighties. To be honest, I held on too long – okay into the next century. My husband says that if I ever perm my hair again he will take that as a sign that I want him to leave. I so wanted to be Maeve, the Celtic Queen. Clearly it didn’t work.
- Stick on Nails
I really loved the length of these, but the problem is they don’t stay stuck on so you tend to leave a trail of body parts behind you. I had some awkward moments when they popped off in meetings. ‘Whoops’ doesn’t quite cover it in those seconds! Also the glue (while it was not foolproof on the nails) stuck to everything else and ruined several trousers of mine where it dropped and even caused a hole in my sheet! The Bentley fashion police declared that they had to go (he was tired of finding lonely pinky nails in his car – although I am surprised he found ANYthing amongst the detritus of MacDonalds splurges, old ties and musical scores languishing amidst sweet wrappers and CD cases.) He threatened to get a tattoo if I continued and since one should never put a bumper sticker on a Bentley (and I was damaging my nails) I relented.
- Golf Shirts and baggy T-shirts
I mean look at that:. These were designed for men. And that’s what flat chested women look like in them. Have you ever noticed though that corporate clothing automatically includes such apparel, even in education where the majority of staff members are women. And for those of us who were standing behind the door when the boobs were handed out , but were blessed with fat which gravitates downwards to occupy cuddly rolls around our middles, this is not a good look. That’s why, now that I am a head of a school, we are sourcing corporate blouses in dignified styles. If I am going to wear a logo, it will be on a girl’s top thank you.
- Court Shoes
We called them ‘Lady Di’ shoes in the early eighties. Now on the People’s Princess they looked elegant, but on small, fat and flat feet? Not so much. And the ones I bought for my graduation caused me huge embarrassment because I walked out of both of them on my way to the stage for my moment of glory. At least the vice chancellor was smiling in my pics compared to others, but still. And they made my ankles look fat.
- Skinny jeans
I’ll just leave this here.
- Hotbrushed bangs
You see everyone wanted to be like Farrah Fawcett. Come to think of it, it wasn’t even a good look on her!
- Plunging Necklines
Sometimes less is more and sometimes it’s…well…less. And either way that doesn’t go with the ‘boss’ look. Andrew didn’t mind until we became a couple and then he was advocating full purdah.
- Glasses on a Chain
I was told that I look like this:
When really I thought I looked like this:
Anyway the only reason I stopped using the chain was that it broke. I found it most useful and shall probably purchase another one when I find one I like. So take that, Fashion Fascists.
- The Baggy Jersey
When I was 17, my friend’s mother made me a jersey from 4 squares. It was warm and snuggly, but eventually it stretched down to my knees. I wore it everywhere and embarrassed my entire family in the process. I loved it even though it was hideous. Thank goodness no photograph has survived.
Just once ok (and it was at home) I tried on the fur stole I inherited from my mother-in-law. I did not, however, have the guts to wear it to the matric dance where I was a role model for young people. What does one do with those long ago fashions that are quite beautiful; yet so incredibly un pc that one simply cannot wear them?
So that is my confession and it is a good one. I promise never to sin again (unless I find a really cool chain for my glasses.) But hey, It could be worse: I never wore Crocs, or twerked around, exposing my lumps bumps and bulges in leggings and a crop top, even when I run (Oh no I don’t run); I never had a mullet or adorned my locks with a fascinator at a wedding. (Those things are simply dreadful: who thinks that attaching half a florist on your head will be fetching?! The only creatures who may be fascinated would be half-drunk bees.) I do not go to the shop in my pyjamas.
Ramp model I may not be, but I still have the best accessory: a Bentley.