#inthecloset is a feature in which someone chooses an item of clothing of particular significance to them and tells us about it and why it stands out to them among everything else in their wardrobe. The idea being to gain an insight into someone’s life through what they choose to wear. That and to look at some nice clothes.
1. Being indecisive. 2. Wearing too many rings. 3. Wearing almost exclusively black.
When I was asked to write this article, instantly number 1 came into play and I couldn’t decide on one specific item to write about; so in the spirit of these talents, I’ve chosen my two most treasured items.
The first one is my Russian wedding ring. No, I didn’t run off to St. Petersburg and have a whirlwind romance; apparently that’s just what it’s called. It’s been pretty much a permanent fixture of my left thumb for the last five years. This ring spawned a collection which now amasses over 30, carefully curated (read: found them after trawling through eBay mostly) by yours truly. I’m still yet to work out why rings feel as necessary to me as shoes, but this is so true that I once walked ¾ of the way to uni, realised that I’d forgotten to wear my rings that morning, shouted at my flatmate: ‘I CAN’T DO IT, I FEEL NAKED’, and then proceeded to skulk back to my flat to be reunited. None of the rings that I own are worth very much; I think instead that the reason I’ve become so attached to them is that they feel part of my identity. I got into the habit of acquiring a new ring after significant events in my life: getting my A Level results, the end of my first relationship; my first ‘first’ at university. So I suppose I’m so attached to them because they represent what I’ve achieved thus far and they’ve seen every day of my life for the past 5 years. Undoubtedly by the time I reach 70, I’ll have enough silver to sink a small battleship. An excessive ring habit will do that to you.
The second thing I chose to write about is, ironically, something I’ve never worn. When I first discovered fashion as something that I was interested in and something I could express myself with, and essentially something that would form a huge part of my life, my mum gave me a small collection of her clothes. This is a woman who was a green-haired punk/come suited investment banker/come charity CEO, so you can imagine that said collection is pretty eclectic. One of the things she gave me was a 100% silk, black, floor length Alexander McQueen nightgown. I kid you not. Probably the most beautiful dress I’ve ever seen, and worth more than all of my bodily organs combined, my mother actually gave me this at 15 years old. In the subsequent six years this dress remains, unworn, but takes pride of place in my wardrobe as a symbol that one day I might sort my life out enough to merit wearing such a dress (here’s hoping), and as an eternal reminder of what an effortlessly cool and generous woman my mother is. Thanks, Mum.
Holly studies languages at UCL and when not pretending to be a cultured woman of the world, she can be found discovering new favourite albums or saying something sarcastic and almost permanently has a cup of green tea attached to her left hand. Holly is still hoping that one day her eyebrows might behave.
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