Hideous Clothing... is it Really Acceptable?

Having a dress sense which neither includes any 'dresses' nor many 'senses' is a wonderfully odd category to fall into. Wearing baggy pants which could definitely be mistaken for pyjamas (well some of them actually are pyjamas), baggy tshirts on repeat and huge coats often gets me falsely taken for a homeless person... In addition to this wearing bright green cycling shorts and a brightly coloured 5 panel makes my attire match that of Mr. Motivators...

None of which I really mind an awful lot about. But it does pose the question... Is it really acceptable?

In short, no. In the eyes of society/your peers/your Grandma, getting about in outlandish and probably 'hideous' clothing is not really acceptable anywhere bar Vera Wang's Spring/Summer catwalk premiere. But I don't see that as a particularly good reason not to do it.

For me, walking down the street and knowing people are quietly muttering to each other 'what the fuck is that girl wearing' is an absolutely spiffing concept. Baffling the heads of strangers is always fun and it takes the focus off the fact I've not slept properly or brushed my hair in a few days.

On the other side of this though you get those priceless compliments that just make your day ten times over because they're as unsure as you are as to why you're wearing what you're wearing. 'Oh, that shirt is ..... interesting' 'Wow those leggings are brave!' Thanks, I think.

At home the parentals can often ask such a wide variety of questions regarding what I'm wearing, some including 'Why are you a chav?' 'Why do you look like a P.E teacher?' and 'Where the fuck do you even find items of clothing like that?'. My friends come at me with 'Ria mate you can't go out in those' and 'You always look so comfy but stop wearing your pjs in public'.

Referring back to Vera Wang, some of the shit you see on the catwalk these days is absolutely crazy and it is becoming less and less frowned upon to go out in statement items. Probably not when you're just nipping to tesco but hey if you've got it flaunt it (and to the girl I saw today with a bright purple and silver bomber jacket you were certainly flaunting it).

I am the biggest fan of weird clothes, I think if you can pull it off (which I can't, but I like to think I can) and you're enjoying your choices then why does it really matter. Being comfortable in your own skin allows you to have stupendous amounts of fun with your clothing choices, so you might as well do something interesting with it.

Fashion the Hello Kitty socks with pedal pushers and werk werk werk the Willy Wonka style glasses with a head scarf. Each day is a new, hideous, clothing adventure to be embraced with open arms.

52 Days of I'm Not Quite Sure What

52 days since arriving at university... 52 days of becoming the master of procrastination, 52 days of learning how to drink a litre of rum without vomiting, 52 mornings of oversleeping, 52 packets of 9p noodles and 52 days where I've wondered what the fuck is actually going on.

Whoever thought it would be a good idea to let thousands of lets face it, children, live in a huge complex together with absolutely no adult supervision whatsoever must be an absolute fucking nutter. Saying that I'm not one for good ideas and drinking myself into oblivion and turning up to lectures still on the extremely wonky side is 100% my idea of good time.


What my course actually entails I couldn't begin to tell you BUT what I can tell however is how to get a trolley in to a third floor flat without majorly injuring anybody and I can also tell you how entertaining staring at a wall becomes after 10 minutes of a Shakespeare lecture.

All joking aside though, turning up with my suitcase and 'big tesco bag' of worldly possessions all those 52 days ago was definitely slightly daunting and in all honesty it probably wasn't until a few weeks ago I properly settled in. Now my little box room scattered in dirty clothes and the whole selection of kitchenware is what I'd like to call my humble abode.



For any parents out there worried about their 'baby girls' and their 'baby boys' experiencing the harsh realities of the big wide world... Please, please don't worry because this is not even a fraction of the real world and we're all doing just fine. It's basically just a year long sleepover where playing out becomes living at the pub down the road and bedtime stories evolve into everyone crammed into one persons room watching a marathon of some relatively mind-numbing TV series on someones laptop.


Being thrown into such a we're-living-in-each-others-pockets-but-I-don't-really-mind kind of environment with people you've never met before is definitely an odd experience. For me what I've found the most comforting thing to be is how close you actually can become with people in such a short space of time. Within the first day I'd found my own little group and before knew it I was pouring my heart out to them over a portion of chips at the beloved 'Uni Kitchen' and then turning up to their door every morning thereafter for a brew and a ciggy. It is like having your own little family, a very dysfunctional family to say the bare minimum, but a family nonetheless.


Basically I'm trying to say that although my abilities to prioritise are lacking and I base my days around when I've been awake long enough for it to be nap time again, university is fun. And the staying up late to read the 4 novels, 50 poems and 5 Shakespeare plays you're yet to read and panicking about all the work you need to do is all part of the experience. It's okay to be a little behind and to be going out instead of doing your work (maybe) because that's what first year is for and anyone who tries to tell you otherwise clearly hasn't been here before. 

Just gotta pass..... right?