My influences run much deeper than that though, and I have to say that my parents are the ones that nurtured my rather eccentric ways. So this post is about how they helped create Miss Pond.
I have always had a rather crazy sense of style. Every decade always brings its own style of clothing and I haven't been on trend once. This has not been a source of worry to me, although it was probably a source of deep embarrassment to my brothers and sisters. Money was tight with five kids in the house and so we generally got our clothes in flea markets and jumble sales, I say this very proudly, I might add, because there is absolutely no shame in it. My mum and dad were happy for me to pick my own clothes from a young age ( if they viewed this as a mistake once I got going, they were gracious enough not to say it out loud ). So there I was perusing racks of clothing, scrabbling about on tables piled with clothes like a miniature trooper. Every now and then I would pull out some item like a huge brown wool duffle coat and announce that I wanted that. This would be fine, my parents undoubtedly thought, but little did they know of my plans to team it with my full length frilly ra ra skirt, a rainbow coloured sweater and trainers. They soon got the message though, when, they would look out of the kitchen window and see me scampering about doing cartwheels in a velvet pantaloon suit complete with double breasted jacket, long sport socks and bright pink sateen shoes laced with black ribbon. Quite often in the holidays, we would all take a trip in town to help with the weekly shop, and I imagine we made quite an impression. A long line of us traipsing down the streets with millions of carrier bags between us, my little brother in a rickety pushchair ( of which he would be turfed out of and replaced by mounds of tins ), and me, the weirdo on the end wearing bright yellow knee length culottes, long socks with blue elstic garters to hold them up as the elastic had gone, cowboy boots and a starwars t shirt passed down from my brother. I guess I hadn't quite got to know how to do vintage style and was very happy wearing whatever caught my fancy no matter what decade it came from. The point is, I was never discouraged. If I had been then my vintage roots would probably have remained buried, to be replaced with a need to dress more conventionally, to slot in with everyone else. Instead, I'm not afraid to be dressed differently and as a result, I can embrace the wonderful world of vintage to the full. So thank you, dear mum and dad, for giving me such a positive influence where my fashion sense is concerned.
As you can see, I have always been a chunk. What you can't see, is that under my rather natty bonnet, I have shoulder length hair. I was born with very long dark hair, I also had hair on my shoulders and to be perfectly honest, I'm at a loss as to why my mother didn't immediately pass me over to the natural history museum as proof of the missing link!
This is proof that I've always loved a good cardi, this one was knitted by my mum. Meanwhile, my dad and little bro are fully engaged in their own competition as to who can wear the loudest sweater. Personally, I think little bro is the winner, hence the smug look.
Don't ask, just don't ask!
Also proof that I am a total poser and always have been. Both brothers are clearly used to this.
My two rather beautiful sisters, and me, showing my affinity with long sport socks and proving to the world they do go with dresses and brown anoraks. My hair was done by my mother, who would be under strict instructions to either put my pigtails far back on my head, so I could look like a rabbit, or to place them on top AKA Red from Fraggle Rock. On this particular day, she must have favoured a rabbit for a daughter instead of some demented Fraggle bounding about all day, can't say I blame her really!
Till next time dears xx
I love those photos they always make me smile :) you have always been a poser but you have become slightly more refined these days well sometimes anyway xxx
ReplyDeleteO yes, I am a true poser. The bottom picture shows that I was in full swing with my coke (the drink!) addiction. Nevermind the camera lense pointed at me, I'm not stopping drinking for anything, il smile round my straw instead. Xxx
DeleteI am practically peeing my pants laughing here. Actually, when you look back, you weren't the only weird dresser. Remember the year (yes a whole year) when Helen wore nothing but green cords with a blue bomber jacket and a putrid coloured woolly hat, and carried around a little blue teddy bear? Can you remember the brown cord skirt, black tights and red boots that I spent a whole winter in? Oh yes. it's definitely in the blood. Your dear mother (moi) always insisted on sleeping with any new shoes beneath her pillow, because I really wanted to wear them in bed. This also applied my ballet shoes as well as my leather zip up boots. Not at the same time I hasten to add! And what about the year of the PERM? Your dad's I mean. worn with a natty green Harris Tweed jacket no less. He still has that jacket in the cloakroom, buried beneath his wax jacket and other assorted coats that he can't bear to part with, even though he can't get into them any more. Proof indeed of our eccentricity. At least I never made you suffer the indignity of going to bed with very tight and uncomfortable 'rags' in your hair in a failed attempt to make it curl. A torture I frequently suffered thanks to my mum! xx
DeleteI hope you're well x
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