As first posts go, fashion probably wasn’t my first thought. But hey ho, it’s on my mind so here we are.
My sense of ‘style’ will probably remain the bane of my Mother’s life for the rest of time. Sometimes I’m quite impressed with what I manage to pull off (floor length gowns, high heels etc.), other times I’m quietly shocked I’ve dared to step out the house. Arguably the best part of going to Harper is that I can plan my dress for balls on the colour of my wellies and my welly sock selection. Arguably the best part of working on a farm is that I can go to the supermarket in waterproofs covered in lamb afterbirth and straw and only a few people dare to look me up and down. I do not own a skirt, however I could probably change my coat twice a day for a week and have spares. Maybe my sense of style could be called ‘practical’. I have a favourite shirt. It is a Mens’ XS. I wear it to work on the farm, I wash it, I wear it to lectures at Uni. It goes with every pair of jeans I own, and every coat I own (essential). The label is faded and there’s escapee threads in a few places, but I paid £15 for it and it gets more wear than anything else in my wardrobe. Long live the checked tattersall shirt! My wellies are the most expensive item in my wardrobe, including my Leavers’ Ball gown and my tweed jacket, and I pride myself on keeping them ‘well muddied’.
If I’m feeling sort of girly, I might wear some moccasins, I might wear a more fitted blouse, one of my ‘smarter’ coats…that’s probably it. I’m not saying all female farmers are like me, but the thought of trying to cope in day to day life with the constant threat of my knickers being exposed is too much pressure for me. I strive to be comfortable and ready for anything the British countryside (or its’ four legged residents) might throw at me. Jeans, boots and a baggy shirt will do for me. Sorry Mother!