Now, I am not someone who knows about clothes.
"But Jess!" I hear you cry,"you are always so chic!"
Alas, this is not the result of knowledge, beauty or a natural sense of style. It's more, sheer luck that the clothes that landed on my body as I ran, shut-eyed through my wardrobe (yes it is walk-in...and wasted on me), seem to go together fairly well. Although, saying that, it is not really luck at all, as all my clothes are basically the same: floral dress, woollen garment, tights, boots. Stick to what you know and you can't go too far wrong. Ok, this method doesn't not lead to an exciting collection of clothes but it does at least prevent me wearing pyjamas everyday which is really my inclination.
So when I shop, or flick through the abandoned copy of Vogue (or more likely, Stylist) that I found, or I hear celebrity people say who they are wearing; I have absolutely no idea what these names mean. Chanel, Galliano, McQueen. Could you even tell, on sight alone, who the designer was?
But just as some people known their Pollock from Picasso, their Mozart from Mendelssohn, or their Bowie from The Beatles, there are people who care about what they put on their bodies, because that is art too.
Why am I talking about this when I haven't a clue?
Well, yesterday I went wedding dress shopping. Not for me obviously, although what a magical dressing up box a Bridal Shop is. Shoes off, underfloor heating, the cool shades of cream, white, pearl, sequins, glitter, lace, dive in and become a princess. I defy even the most hard-hearted, anti-marriage feminist not to feel the same way in the furthest corner of their heart.
But as I said, not for me, but my best friend who never had any intention of buying a dress there. Lucky girl has a clever aunt who is making her dress. Bespoke and one of a kind. So we were there to see what looked good on her (a-line or fish-tail, round neck or sweetheart...I'm not telling, it's a secret), take some covert photos of the yeses and the nos, and coo over how beautiful she was. And now all that information is bound for Bristol where the lovely Lou is designing.
So, as Amy disappeared into the changing room and the assistant followed her, the froth of a wedding dress looped over her arm, we would hear the vitals: designer, shape, fabric. Designer always first and meaning nothing to any of us.
"The designer doesn't matter." Ha!
But wait! The designer does matter. They made the dress. The designers are the second most important group there, after the Brides. Sure, at the wedding, they will fade into the background again but here in a shop of their wares, surely they deserve a little credit.
Look, you may not care if you don't have a Vera Wang dress on but makers all have their signatures. They have different body shapes they look good on. They have different weddings in mind. If you try on a dress in the first shop you go to and it's absolutely perfect but is way too expensive, the next shop you go to, you can tell them the designer you tried and find someone similar. The same if it's proportioned all wrong. The same if it looked bloody awful on you and you want to avoid them like the plague.
So, I assume, it probably works with all clothes, from high fashion to charity shops. Yes, even on my level. For example, I know I can't buy clothes from Warehouse without being prepared to make some serious alterations. Sadly, my boobs just aren't big enough whatever size I try. I know I love almost everything in Urban Outfitters but it's slightly too expensive, and the buttons are prone to coming undone, which is always a bit awkward in company. I know I can't stand going into TKMax because I don't enjoy the chaos despite the potential for a bargain.
Then, it stands to reason that if you are buying the most significant dress of your life, you might want to know who makes the possibilities.
And this wedding? This dress? The designer matters even more than usual because she's a guest, family and using her talents as a gift. Isn't that exquisite? And lucky me, she's making the bridesmaid dresses too. Hurrah for designers!
"But Jess!" I hear you cry,"you are always so chic!"
Alas, this is not the result of knowledge, beauty or a natural sense of style. It's more, sheer luck that the clothes that landed on my body as I ran, shut-eyed through my wardrobe (yes it is walk-in...and wasted on me), seem to go together fairly well. Although, saying that, it is not really luck at all, as all my clothes are basically the same: floral dress, woollen garment, tights, boots. Stick to what you know and you can't go too far wrong. Ok, this method doesn't not lead to an exciting collection of clothes but it does at least prevent me wearing pyjamas everyday which is really my inclination.
So when I shop, or flick through the abandoned copy of Vogue (or more likely, Stylist) that I found, or I hear celebrity people say who they are wearing; I have absolutely no idea what these names mean. Chanel, Galliano, McQueen. Could you even tell, on sight alone, who the designer was?
But just as some people known their Pollock from Picasso, their Mozart from Mendelssohn, or their Bowie from The Beatles, there are people who care about what they put on their bodies, because that is art too.
Why am I talking about this when I haven't a clue?
Well, yesterday I went wedding dress shopping. Not for me obviously, although what a magical dressing up box a Bridal Shop is. Shoes off, underfloor heating, the cool shades of cream, white, pearl, sequins, glitter, lace, dive in and become a princess. I defy even the most hard-hearted, anti-marriage feminist not to feel the same way in the furthest corner of their heart.
But as I said, not for me, but my best friend who never had any intention of buying a dress there. Lucky girl has a clever aunt who is making her dress. Bespoke and one of a kind. So we were there to see what looked good on her (a-line or fish-tail, round neck or sweetheart...I'm not telling, it's a secret), take some covert photos of the yeses and the nos, and coo over how beautiful she was. And now all that information is bound for Bristol where the lovely Lou is designing.
So, as Amy disappeared into the changing room and the assistant followed her, the froth of a wedding dress looped over her arm, we would hear the vitals: designer, shape, fabric. Designer always first and meaning nothing to any of us.
"The designer doesn't matter." Ha!
But wait! The designer does matter. They made the dress. The designers are the second most important group there, after the Brides. Sure, at the wedding, they will fade into the background again but here in a shop of their wares, surely they deserve a little credit.
Look, you may not care if you don't have a Vera Wang dress on but makers all have their signatures. They have different body shapes they look good on. They have different weddings in mind. If you try on a dress in the first shop you go to and it's absolutely perfect but is way too expensive, the next shop you go to, you can tell them the designer you tried and find someone similar. The same if it's proportioned all wrong. The same if it looked bloody awful on you and you want to avoid them like the plague.
So, I assume, it probably works with all clothes, from high fashion to charity shops. Yes, even on my level. For example, I know I can't buy clothes from Warehouse without being prepared to make some serious alterations. Sadly, my boobs just aren't big enough whatever size I try. I know I love almost everything in Urban Outfitters but it's slightly too expensive, and the buttons are prone to coming undone, which is always a bit awkward in company. I know I can't stand going into TKMax because I don't enjoy the chaos despite the potential for a bargain.
Then, it stands to reason that if you are buying the most significant dress of your life, you might want to know who makes the possibilities.
And this wedding? This dress? The designer matters even more than usual because she's a guest, family and using her talents as a gift. Isn't that exquisite? And lucky me, she's making the bridesmaid dresses too. Hurrah for designers!
