Clothes in the wild

Regular readers might recall that I spent two years in the wilderness. Not in the actual wild but I was without the anchor of a permanent job for two years and let me tell you it’s wilder than you might expect. Particularly for the first nine months when I didn’t have Miss I to care for and was yet to start a blog. For the record I did try to find work but my attempts were largely fruitless. You can read about my short and demoralising stints in the casual workforce here and here.

The experience taught me many things and among the more practical skills I mastered was the art of filling a day. I became highly proficient in fleshing out activities to fill time. A key tool in my kit, and indeed for anyone battling the elements outside the structure of a job or daily responsibility, was to perfect the meander.  And perfect it, I don’t mind saying, I did. The meander is the ideal way to pad out a day. I would always add time on either side of any scheduled activity to spend meandering. Essentially walking but without a specific purpose or destination.

I did spend nearly every waking moment a lot of time in one particular Oxford café, however, there would come always a point, long after my companions returned to their studies or jobs, where I had very clearly exceeded the amount of time any single person could reasonably spend occupying someone’s café. At that point I would set off for a wander. Or a meander. I always stopped into several shops on my walk home. 

I understand some people don’t like window shopping. Actually, that’s a lie. I will never understand that but I know for some people they don’t enjoy a browse. As a long-time lover of both clothes and shopping, I can happily peruse shops aimlessly for hours. Which I did. As an unemployed woman, my ability to purchase anything was obviously extremely limited. Being pregnant actually helped in this regard because it immediately ruled out the vast majority of items I admired anyway. So instead I would browse.

And dream. I was always drawn to the racks of chic and sharp clothes – blazers, cropped jackets, sleek pants, silk tops, cute heels – but I would always look and wonder the exact same thing. Who on earth wears them? And where do they go?? They were dressy but they weren’t cocktail dresses or party clothes. I was perplexed. The answer should have been obvious but it wasn’t. Living in a University town populated by students in a similar uniform to my own – stripy t-shirts, jeans and a million layers – without a bustling CBD filled with office workers, I couldn’t imagine a place so sophisticated to warrant these beautiful garments. The natural habitat for these items was completely off my radar.

Of course the clothes I obsessively ogled were work clothes. Not the matching suit variety but the sophisticated and sharp variety. Serious but fun. The clothes, that if I’m honest, I probably enjoy wearing the most. Having an excuse to actually buy some of these things was one of the many great joys I experienced when I returned to work. I’m reminded of this again now because as my tummy grows and my wardrobe options shrink, in shops once again, I’m magically drawn to the garments I’m least likely to fit in to or need for quite some time. At least now though I know where they belong and when I might need to wear them again. For now jersey and comfort are my great wardrobe friends.

What is your favourite category of clothes? And if you’ve been pregnant before what are your top maternity dressing tips?