The photos in this post have been on my laptop for ages; possibly since before Christmas.
I remember a time when I used to post pretty much my daily outfits, when my wardrobe was crazy and vast. These days I have the best of intentions but when it comes to it I hold back. My wardrobe could currently be described as repetitive, containing perhaps 25% of what it once did and with probably only 25% of that being worn on any kind of regular basis. I was trying to work out why this was the other day and quite simply it boils down to the fit and my acceptance of the idea of fitting.

This dress is the perfect example of that. I bought it back in October and I have worn it precisely twice. It’s a gorgeous dress that I had to have, it’s great quality and versatile but I’ve taken against it…why? Because it fits. It fits me exactly how this style of dress should fit me, and that’s what I hold against it. For years I have hidden away behind baggy layers, at times out of necessity (for warmth, because nothing else fit) and more recently because I can’t stand how it feels to have something fit me.

I’ve spent a long period of my life now “up-sizing” my wardrobe then wondering why my purchases look entirely different on me than they do on the model. I’ve spent time convincing myself that baggier is better, is more flattering. I’ve spent so long hating my body that I can’t bear to see it, or to feel it in clothes that actually make contact with my skin. One of my biggest fears, still, is that I’ll wear a fitted dress to work or to an event and someone will see that my stomach is no longer perfectly flat or that I actually have some flesh around my hips these days.

This was really bought home to me recently when shopping for a dress to wear to a wedding. Firstly actually finding a dress was a nightmare. Anything that looked body-con, or even straight up and down rather than flared was discounted on account of how it would make me look and feel. Once I finally found something that had an a-line cut and long sleeves to hide my arms I did my usual and ordered the larger size, my “safety” size.
Said dress arrived and looked quite frankly, ridiculous. It was clearly too big but otherwise perfect so after a lot of convincing I sent it back and ordered the size down. That size arrived and I tried it on and it took a lot of self-restraint not to send that one back too, this time for being too small. Was it too small? No, no it was not, but it fitted, I could feel it, it showed off my waist and didn’t gape at the back…physically it was the perfect fit and it looked a lot better but I’ve got so used to baggy and shapeless that I genuinely believed that this dress was too small for me. To an extent I still do but I’m keeping it.

I realise at the age of 32 that this is a ridiculous fear to have. I might not feel it, but I’m still young, I have a slim figure (despite what my brain would have me believe) and I don’t need to hide it away at all times. Skinny jeans should be skinny and not gape at the waist, dresses should nip in at the waist and skirts and trousers shouldn’t be falling half way down your arse.
This is going to be the year I challenge that. I have a wedding dress to shop for after all and I refuse to spend money on what could end up being a glorified rubbish bag if I insist on at least one size up to what it should be.

My one exception to this will be this perfectly oversized denim jacket that Bob bought me from Chinese Laundry in Hull when we were up for his Birthday in November. Sometimes baggy IS best, and this jacket, the denim jacket I have been searching for since my early twenties is a prime example.

Does anyone else struggle with buying clothes that fit rather than clothes that conceal? Any ideas for over-coming this would be most welcome.

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