Image from JAK & JIL.
I was in Portobello Road the other day when I got stopped by a clipboard bearing fellow, sporting a cobalt raincoat ten sizes too big asking if I worked in an office. I was shocked at my reply. ‘I wish’ I said, I don’t. I really don’t know why I suddenly wished I worked in an office, but that’s not the point. He decided to respond (I’m running into Boots at this point) with, ‘But you’re wearing an office coat!’ and that’s what really got me thinking..
I’m a complete sucker for anything quintessentially British. Burberry is one of the most inspirational of British brands to me, and I’d like to think that donning a classic trench remotely similar to theirs emulates my love of British style and adds a touch of elegance and heritage to an outfit. My trusty Zara trench has been dubbed many unaffectionate names; american journalist, a strippers coat, Burberry knock off (that last one I may have said), to name a few. Also, being that I’m from the South East, it’s a bit of a rarity to see a girl sporting short hair and a supposedly masculine coat – so help me if I ever wanted to add a pair of brogues into the equation..
I don’t think I’ll ever understand how, to many people, short hair automatically equals lesbian, a trench coat equals complete androgyny and a shirt poking out from under a jumper equals male geography teacher. I like dressing this way, and in the midst of hoodie wearing, Nike blazer footed teens, why am I the one that should feel under dressed or even slightly inadequate?
So until the day I can afford the real thing, I shall be wearing mine with my battered Chelsea boots (another rant for another time), a denim shirt under a cosy knit, and anything else that appeals.
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