I’ve always had a thing for tartan. To me, it has this certain quality about it that I can’t place which had always that little edge for me (Is badassery a word?). It can be incredibly bright to understated, and crops up everywhere, like being a punk staple, commercialized around the 1980’s (I bet Vivienne Westwood has a throne lined in tartan where she sits and thinks up yummy brilliant things like jelly stilettoes. Oh wait. Then you have MAC’s Totally Tartan collection in 2010, complete with little tartan makeup bags and kitschy brush holders, ) to seemingly more conservative roots (Catholic school girls. Until you go all Lolita on that shit. Then things get weird.) as well as historic backgrounds (my mother tells me that we’re distantly linked to the Whitfield family, so we’ve got about a drop of Scottish blood in our veins, but I have yet to find the family’s tartan print) and frankly, KILTS. I am pro-kilt. It makes older men look distinguished and young men dashing. (Although, as with everything, you do get the odd outlier. Like this old man who I see frequently wandering the city in the same jumper and kilt everytime. Then not so much.)
I used to have this cute little red and blue wraparound kilt that I bought last year, but the buttons on it unfortunately pinged off. On the train to London, no less. That was an awkward seven hours. The beginning of this year, I bought this little skater dress impulsively, but I liked it too much to return it (Why do I have this problem? RAGE!)
Dress (belt included) - Quiz
Boots - Harvey Nichols
Coat (fur stole included) - Topshop (sale)
Peace outtt.
Diana x
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