Sunday, 7 September 2014

The Wrong Knickers

I love Bryony Gordon. I know this is all terribly 'fan girl' of me but blame my Mum; ever since she pointed out that Bryony and I were of a similar and age and lead seemingly chaotic lives I felt I had a kindred spirit. 

Reading about her London life in The Wrong Knickers brought back memories of my 20's, chaos being the prevalent undercurrent: moving 10 times in 6 years, crashing headlong into dead end relationships, the all night raves, food poisoning, getting my drink spiked in Ibiza, watching friend after friend waltz down the aisle whilst I was the token class clown. Yet all the while I held down a pretty stressful job and built my career. 

There was a lot of magic in my 20's as well: a houseshare in Manchester which brought me lifelong friends, cooking my first roast dinner, awesome holidays in South Africa, Ibiza and America, completing a Fashion Journalism course. Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't change any of it. I'm just thankful that in Bryony Gordon writing about it I don't feel so bad about it. 

I admit I skim read some of the chapters, so close to the bone was the writing, that the words took my breath away. My carousel of lurching crisis came to a head after a move to Dubai and back after which I knuckled down, bagged my dream job, saved up and eventually started The Wardrobe Angel. If you've read Bryony Gordon's column in The Telegraph called How The Other Half Lives she used to be the pissed up lass roaring around London, the bones of which are brought to life in The Wrong Knickers. She now resides on the other side of the fence - married with a baby. 

A couple of years ago when friends were popping kids out all over the place I felt my future on this front was bleak: I was working on my business, a relationship was the last thing on my mind. But reading Bryony's story from single to shacked up gave me...hope. I knew the rest would come, and it did. 

Thanks Bryony. You utter legend. 

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