Saturday, 19 February 2011


::Although it doesn't help me much in my bid to acquire the poor girl's equivalent of Erin Wasson's wardrobe, I have to confess my love for Marni. And The Outnet. When I get a new job, I am buying a Marni dress. I don't care if it means I have to eat tomato soup and generic veg curry for 4 weeks - my wardrobe will have in its possession a dress so beautiful, it puts its Topshop and Zara neighbours to shame. Remember the scene from Pulp Fiction with the briefcase? That same celestial, radiant light, 200000kw light will engulf my faux-French chateau-style Ikea wardrobe, and I will be the proud owner of my first designer item.

Thus far, the High Street has been the sordid, sweat-shop-shame supplier of my outfits (is Marni made in sweat shops? Well, I can forgive them...). But more and more of late, as I painfully turn over the price tags of polyester camisoles in Urban Outfitters (£60?) and trendy camel-hue princess cut coats in Topshop (£130? Could I wear it next season when camel is out, and the snickering girls in Shoreditch wonder how someone can be so brazen as to wear one of last season's hero pieces?), more and more I am considering investing in designer items that don't have a seasonal life span, but cost a fortune.

This poses a few problems. Well, it poses one problem, the most obvious problem. I can't afford to buy £600 dresses every few weeks on my salary. I can barely afford to buy a half-price grey maxi dress from Miss Selfridge that no one wanted. So I gotta wait until I get a gig that permits such extravagances. In the meantime I can contemplate the closets of Alexa (the only thing I'm jealous of concerning good old overexposed AC is her wardrobe) Sasha Pivovarova, and Erin Wasson.

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