I’m a big believer in childhood pursuits governing how you dress for the rest of your days. I read an interview with Alexa Chung once where she said a childhood spent in jodphurs and jodphur boots had dictated her love of skinny jeans and chelsea boots, and I immediately knew what she meant. I too spent my formative years mucking out horses, watching Clueless over and over and wearing polo shirts and tracksuit bottoms to lacrosse matches and see bits of each in my style today. This most-definitely sits in the sphere of over-watched teen movies, lying somewhere between The Craft and Empire Records, like Cher Horowitz with a bad streak who should have known better.
Super long sleeves might just be the most impractical obsession I’ve had for a while. You can’t check the time, eat a meal without dragging them in your food and they have a habit of making you look like some nightmarish creature with oversized limbs. And yet I love them anyway… If that isn’t unrequited love I don’t know what is.
And in the spirit of long and lengthy goodness, the light was on our side on this particular day, casting those midday shadows normally reserved for America’s west coast. My obsession with all things LaLa-land is still going strong, but on days like this London suddenly feels like my favourite all over again…