I’ve mentioned Euro Bourgeois quite a bit in the last few days, and I don’t know if it’s the hot heat but I feel like busting out some chino shorts and going for a gentle stroll with a knotted jumper ‘pon my shoulder. It wasn’t always this way though.
Pretty much ever since I could dress myself I was allowed to wear what I liked. Particular favourites included a blue knitted dress with a goose and IRL red satin ribbon. I still enjoy that one-stop awesomeness you get from items like knitted dresses, and if anyone wants to recreate that one I would totally buy it, in a flash. I also loved hand me downs from an early age, feeling so proud to wear a pair of pink Nikes that belonged to a friend.
Being the contrary moron I am, plonked in a school with some Frencher than thou native Frenchies clad head to toe in Jacadi and Barbour, I couldn’t help busting out the gold waistcoats and tartan leggings, (can you tell my fashion icon was Claudia Kishi from the Babysitter’s Club?) My triple threat of ski pants and matching sweatshirt in black, lego green and fuchsia was also an important staple in those years. I still remember feeling really radical in the last year of primary sporting a wildly patterned UNTUCKED shirt, heavens! Me and my BFF would commit these random acts of sartorial rebellion, although I don’t know we were sticking it to, because there was no uniform. This probably reached its zenith with my leopard print leggings and matching chiffon shirt combo, worn with double tongue trainers from Woolworths with lilac chiffon laces. Watch out people, Isabelle’s in town! It was a premature form of teenage rebellion, wearing these stupid, but also amazing, clothes to prove a point.
It seems though, that the pink gingham and navy v-neck jumpers eventually made their mark on me after all, because as I’ve got older I find myself drawn to the preppy BCBG style. I still bust out a moronic charity shop gem, but the everyday sees me dipping my toes more and more into the sparkling clear waters of the preppy world. French preppy is a little more glamourous than the UK styles but it’s the same principle. The attraction of wearing something classic and well-made is a no-brainer, something like my bargainous Burberry trench, or my vintage Grenson brogues. Obviously there’s a fickle element here, the fashion pendulum is swinging toward the more classic end of the spectrum which sits in the back of your mind, but it’s definitely something ingrained into my sartorial makeup. There’s still always going to be the love for anything unexpected or unusual, but the creeping attraction of ‘posh and boring’ as I would have called it in my youth, is definitely making itself known.
The constant preppy vs moron tug of war going on in my head will probably not reach a conclusion, but hopefully get refined and perfected over the years until I’m wearing a brilliant hybrid which not only says I’m fluent in LOL but I also own a yacht.
