Does finding love REALLY help you find your own style? Or am I being a boring relationship wanker? A pretentious twat? But really, it is something I've been wondering about. And if you're wondering how the two are related... LEMME TELL YA CHICKENS.
Since falling in love I've FINALLY found my own personal style.
As a woman in my young twenties my style could best be described as 'Cady Heron in Mean Girls before becoming a baby prostitute.'
I was most comfortable in plain tops, jeans, converse, slogan tees and blazers or jackets.
Well until I met my first serious boyfriend who made me the most uncomfortable and unconfident version of myself.
He didn't like me wearing Converse - and whilst you know the Vix of today would've told him to go and play in traffic, that Vix didn't really know herself or how to exert herself.
That Vix believed her self worth lay solely by being in a relationship and being the perfect vision of an amazing girlfriend. Duly doting on her boyfriend's every whim and apparent fashion choice.
That boyfriend forever compared me to ex girlfriends who wore skirts and dresses and in his word, 'made more effort.' In my words, 'looked like Jane Norman had thrown up on them.'
Suddenly, I was in tight tops, short skirts, cropped jumpers and skinny skinny jeans. And suddenly I started to lose my sense of self.
Where had confident, together, popular, casual and not too try hard Vix gone?
Another few years pass and I was in a new relationship.
I'd started blogging and following fashionable influencers on Instagram and tried to copy styles that I felt were me because I still wasn't sure of who I was.
One minute everything in my wardrobe was edgy and totes 'All Saints', (the shop not the band because I do not have Mel's washboard stomach) the next minute it was filled with bright colours and patterns.
I had a 'casual but with a statement necklace phase'.
I had a, 'black skinny jeans and a nice top' phase but nothing really felt like me.
On reflection it's because I never really felt like me.
I was forever trying to absorb other people's style hoping it would give me one. Because if that cool and popular person had good style, I'd obviously become cool and popular by copying.
I also believed that by feeling like those sexy and confident influencers I followed, I'd become instantly more sexy and confident.
When my ex cheated on me with a girl who thought Britney's costume in the Toxic video was smart casj, I immediately went into a shit spiral of - I need extensions, body cons, fake tan and the glossiest of pink lipsticks. Somehow by becoming her, I thought my ex would be happier with me.
HOW FUCKING GROSS IS THAT?
So fast forward to me dumping his ass and becoming single. This coincided with turning 30 and the day I had an epiphany of, 'Be you. Life is too short to be anyone else.'
Whilst I was skint from being homeless after leaving the ex, I started buying more classic pieces for my wardrobe that really felt like me.
I always knew I had a snatchy little waist and a ginormous bum that sat atop tree trunk legs but finally, instead of trying to put myself in things I thought I should wear, I started wearing things that made me feel good.
I stopped looking at clothes sizes and started just going with how confident something made me.
Sure, I still had times where I went on dates and blamed their lack of interest, not on how many Partridge impressions I could do whilst downing G&Ts but instead on how I looked however, my self-loathing percentage decreased steadily.
Then I met Ben. And here I am. Whether I'm bumming around in a tracksuit or going full sass in a wrap top and skirt, he 100% feels me.
"And maybe, just maybe, it's because I 100% feel myself."
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