It has taken me the better part of me to start this blog but here I am and here goes………… There is nothing more gratifying than being connected to that unique element within you that lights a spark in your soul. You know, that “thing” that fascinates you, that makes you want to explore, to create. In my case, it’s the love of fashion and food.
Since I was about five years old, I remember being mesmerised as a I watched my mum get dressed to go out. She would open up her vanity case and there would be all these glittery things in it; necklaces, earrings, rings, beads, watches all pretty and sparkly, calling out to me. I would want desperately to rummage through the case and try some things on but with a stern glare from her, I would promptly relocate myself to my “watch-post” and dream of the day when I would be a grown up too and will have my very own vanity case filled with shiny baubles.
As a child, I always knew what I wanted to wear and often times my mum would stare at me, bewildered, as I stomped my foot and said, “I don’t want daffun!” “I want deeffun!” She would usually give in provided I wasn’t angling to go to school in a Diana Ross inspired sequined dress.
I remember this amazing pink dress that I had. It had the prettiest floral print, a pink velvet sash, which I thought was so princessy, and a white lace collar. I wore that dress until it was almost thread bare. On my sixth birthday my parents bought the most amazing dress (to me it was). It was light blue and had a white lace apron that fit over it and tied on the sides. Oh! How I adored that dress……..In the same breath, I remember rather vividly this hideous outfit my mum imposed on me! The trauma! It was from Mothercare, it was maroon and the outfit could never quite decide if it was a skirt or a pair of shorts. Yes! Audible gasp! My mum forced me to wear skorts! And I hated every minute. It was one of those outfits that had a matching checkered maroon shirt. What really got my goat was that my sister did not suffer the same indignity. No! She had a similar outfit in navy blue but hers was a proper skirt. So why oh why would mum make me wear skorts? Well, I survived that phase and I think the outfit disappeared mysteriously after a trip to my hometown. Maybe I let it float away in the stream and maybe I didn’t, who knows?
More about my fashion and culinary exploits soon!