oNe might think that perhaps the definition of a great fashion director would be someone who has never made it wrong. I argue against it. (Self-legitimacy? Me?!) I argue that it’s just because it’s wrong many times.
But at 53, I tend to eventually forgive me if it sounds arrogant. And that’s because I made it wrong many times in the past. Here are eight mistakes that have taught me the most about wearing the best clothes.
Second, you’re thinking about buying or wearing something because you should “should” There you need to stage your intervention. General life is a modal verb that completely suggests other political parties, and modal verbs are too short, in the worst case, a bit like a cow at worst. Ignore them. For example, someone (woman) once told me she should show me a bit of cleavage. They were wrong. Especially because I have nothing.
I take trends too seriously
Buying a trend or two is an instant modernza or youth fire – and is a lot of fun. But trends should be treated as a choice to prosper, rather than a dictatorial roadmap of sorts. This picture is an example of how I work hard. I haven’t gotten over how strange the shoes are yet. And call me a stick in the mud – asymmetry not only makes me crazy, but it makes me see it.
I have met many women of all ages and say they are highlighted what they are coming and going. If you really love it, keep an eye on trends, keep an eye on trends, buy them (and it loves you), but otherwise ignore them. (Did you find a theme?!)
I’m not a fan of what is called barn jackets. For example, I recently found someone in a famous barn in Claridge, with a leather-shaped rankless. I won’t go there. And how do I want to stand firm as well, choose some random, paper bag pants, wedge loafers.
I take myself seriously
There’s no cool and chic (delete according to your preference) as it looks – and I don’t know if I can write anything I write in my family’s newspaper, but I can’t restrain my 17-year-old who appears to be insisting it. sorry. I said that. That is, in my opinion, one of the mistakes certain members of the fashion pack make. (I am mostly grateful for our goodness, not our British.) Pompos never looks good. When you’re suspicious, smile.
Anna Murphy wears a top, £755 JW Anderson. Pants, £45, Topshop. Shoes, £225, aeyde; earrings, £295, diny hall
Olivia Beasley for the Times
I won’t change anything
It’s easy to get stuck in your rut. That may not even be a real rut. It could be more like a rut-ette. Don’t completely change your wardrobe lineup from the first year to the next year, to the next will – and yes, I’m decisive about this – you need to change things from time to time, even if it’s around the edge. (For me, that’s usually the case.) For example, if you’re wearing the same shoes you wore 20 years ago, or you’re wearing jeans for that, you might be aging yourself. I definitely overstayed my welcome with a bootcut and never did it again. The gold-covered vintage blazer I’d worn forever was also a great benefit for Captain Maine Warling.
Buy shoes that you can’t walk and clothes that you can’t inhale
It sounds obvious, but we’ve all done it before. This was, aesthetically speaking, not as much of a crime as it is now. (It’s always been a crime existentially.) But these days, it’s a bad look in every sense of the word. Movement and breathing look simple and modern. Others look a bit like Lily’s Bart, even the smallest amount of discomfort. And while she may be one of the best literary heroines written (from my heart, thank you to Edith Wharton), no one wants to be her.
Stick to your size
We all learned a bitter lesson in that not all sizes 16 (or anything) are created equal. Many women squeeze themselves into a slightly tighter option, as it is the size they should be (the word). Or, on the contrary, buy something that is all too big. I shop as directly as possible, but if you need to buy online and don’t know how well fit, order two sizes and send them back. My mistake was always, always, always buying the exact same size for years.
Consider sizing as a personal choice. Fashion packs have long tended to buy pants and jeans on a big side. But the recent move is to buy in different sizes, depending on the particular item and how you want to see it. Someone recently showed me a shopping list for the new season, all under the same brand. All of the pieces came in different sizes, ranging from small to very large. The same shirt looks completely different depending on whether you go for something neat or borrowed a baggy boyfriend.
It’s best to assume it’s expensive
Even if it was that simple, of course it’s not. Some of the items that lasted the longest and/or won me in my wardrobe were bargains, even before I began to rate the prices per wear/compliment. Again, doing physical shopping is a great way to go well if something can be with you for a long time (or not).
• Kings of Bling – Why do the Royals and pop stars all put their bows down in front of Cartier?
One of my picks of spring in this respect – and by doing so, for spring every spring – Uniqlo stones or black trenches are wearable with or without belts (£79.90, £99.90, reduced from uniqlo.com). The incredibly Spaniard version I saved from the luxury brand a few years ago was not as accurate as ever. I need to get rid of that fact in the face of it.
It’s not solving the colors and shapes that flatten you
I’m not a complete idiot. I recorded something really obvious pretty early on. But it’s amazing how much you’ve missed without you. b) Please take a look. c) Sometimes I have them take a photo (again, full length). d) Please take a look.
• I wear a Tesco in the front row of Paris. Who knows?
In particular, photos help you zone in about what works and what doesn’t. That was what finally helped me join the dots about the fact that my love for the hugely swaying dress, with a round face but rather lean torso, had made me look like a milky finish that had slipped through the cream. And it’s because I’m straight up and down, so if I’m wearing a pencil skirt on top that fits in the same way, I look like a sausage. Another lesson finally learned: when I wear a truly pale pink (formerly loved) I look like a sausage too, but even worse, it’s uncooked.
