I got to thinking last night about where my love of style came from. There were certain stories about my mum that always made me smile, in particular the one where she once (in college) painted her shoes with emulsion paint to match her outfit. The fact that she always picked me up on winter days from the school gates in a wolf (WOLF, I kid you not) jacket. It ended up in the tip one day (yes, the TIP. Again, I kid you not) during a phase when people were getting spat upon (and more) for wearing fur coats. The photos of her in skirts up to her bottom and boots up to her knees (that was the ’60s, she wasn’t tarty per se). The trips to NoahNoah on Wellfield Road and some fabulous outfits for work (she was an English teacher) – sky high stilettoed boots in the winter (which to her credit she wore all day every day without once falling over) and houndstooth monochrome suits with calf length kick flare skirts. A (okay, this one was a bit dodgy) ‘rhinestone cowboy’ jewel adorned jumpsuit. Oh yes, and a fabulous khaki-with-jungle-print skirt and jacket (sounds awful, but it was really original at the time) which she bought from Warehouse.  (“Why didn’t you go to a shop?” said my dad…) Something my mum once said to me that I thought was very sweet (and am sure also true) is: children like colour, they like interesting things – they don’t want to see you dowdy. She always wore (and still wears) something quirky or stylish or colourful or interesting, and I’m positive that I’m not the only person she has inspired with her innate sense of style.

But my Dad definitely has something to answer for too. He wore a kermit (ok, this might be a slight exaggeration) green suit the first time he met the Queen and the Duke of Edinburgh, in his capacity as Chief Engineer for a road flyover project in Cardiff. He was one of four, and Prince Philip allegedly said to him “Ahh, you must be the contractor’s agent” (I didn’t know this, but contractors’ agents tend to wear wacky clothes. Maybe I should have been one of those?) Anyway, the second time my dad met them, in a longer line up that time, the eagle eyed Prince recognised him and said “I see you’ve got a new suit!” Brilliant. He also started wearing Kickers the same time as I did (remember them?) and hasn’t done up his shoelaces ever since, which is, I think, a fashion statement in itself. And he’s always, always had cool hair. He doesn’t wear jeans, or cowboy boots, but he definitely has something of an old cowboy about him.

My sister’s definitely had her moments (hey, she was a teenager in the 80s too) and is unfailingly supportive of my styling adventures (as she was of all of my previous crazy fads) but is generally more conservative in dress than me (not a bad thing, for her sake) and my brother (whatever he says, he had some special moments too, you only have to look at the picture) was frankly horrified when he heard about my plan to become a stylist. He thinks my dress sense is the worst in the world, which makes me laugh a lot (clearly he’s wrong).

Yes, our parents are where it all came from. They didn’t bat an eyelid when I dressed entirely in monochrome to match my beloved Welsh sheepdog. Or when I painted my entire room lime green and purple, and insisted on wearing only clothes in that colour (to my discredit I was about 15 at the time, not 9). They always accepted me as I was, and never tried to quash my individuality. Except for the time my mum made me wear a royal blue velour tracksuit to junior school in the winter because it was cosy. Urgh! Cosy and UGLY! I much preferred my grey marl mini skirt with neon graffiti on it. Even in the winter.

xx Nomad Thief xx

You would think that, being into style, by this point in my life I’d have tried and tested everything. In reality I’m lazy about shopping (unless it’s for other people) and these days often find myself into a style rut and just going for comfort/casual dressing (typically, jeans or shorts with a t-shirt or jumper and boots) and looking like a (n albeit stylish) tramp. A bit like this recent post from undisputed street style photographer king The Sartorialist:

Now I think she looks great and I love the style, but for me, it’s time for something new… So, in writing this, am committing myself to devising some new looks, and to showing you the results – lame or otherwise. Namely, the following: lipstick (am a bit worried about this one, my past attempts have been not only disappointing but frankly a little bit frightening) / clothes from the mens department, but this time feminised / earrings (necessitating re-piercing my ears) / grown up shoes (not that I wear Crocs or anything, just that I seem to wear boots winter and summer) / statement collars, necklaces, buttoned up shirts + jumper necklines (good for covering up my scrawny neck) / winter bare legs with boots and calf length skirts (am most excited about this one) / blouses, jeans and high heels / vintage looks, all sorts / more jewellery in general (in particular – bangles, long necklaces and cocktail rings) / tracksuit bottoms and high boots (a la off duty Parisian model. Obviously I’ll look just like one) / dressing up (I have a pathalogical fear of being overdressed and need to get over it as it’s actually nice to make an effort) maybe in actual pretty dresses (I also have a pathalogical fear of looking ‘pretty’) / green (I love it but I don’t wear it enough). I think that’s it.

We all tend to stick to certain ‘formulas’ and we all get bored. Let’s mix it up. Pinpoint something (else) that you like (just look around at other people, or have a flick through some magazines) and just try it. Chances are that although you might have nailed one sort of look, you’ve probably missed a whole load of others that could work on you. Yes, it takes a little bit of thought and effort. But doesn’t everything worth doing?