Honestly, black really isn’t me. I’m not depressed, nor miserable, and goths have never appealed to me. Close friends would tell you that I’m laid back, bubbly and sometimes a little bit goofy. So why do I love wearing black so much?
Black is classy and it goes with everything, that’s what I have stuck to when it comes down to shopping. Now, 80 percent of my wardrobe is draped in dark shadowed shapes, hanging lifelessly from coat hangers. Let face it, I’ll have plenty of choice for a funeral.
When I think back to my childhood wardrobe I have horrid flashbacks of bright Gap hoodies and Tammy Girl T-shirts. I never wore black. Instead, it was always loud pink and purple with Bang on the Door “Groovy Chick” splattered across the front.
If you handed me a pink hoody right now I’d either laugh you out of the room or throw up. That’s not the kind of reaction you want to gamble on.
The first time I wore black was when my mum allowed me to go shopping on my own for the first time with my friends. I was sixteen and I brought a pair of black skinny jeans from New Look. I loved them. I wore them all the time, even to school. Maybe because I knew deep down inside my mum hated them.
They were skintight, showing off my drainpipe legs and small, 16 year old butt at the time. I didn’t feel like a little girl anymore. These jeans had given me curves and a figure. They made me walk with sass, and that’s when I finally understood when people say that black looks sexy on women.
I guess because that’s exactly how the colour made me feel – mysterious and sexy and woman like for once in my young adult life. I loved the confidence that the colour has given me so much that it has crept into my wardrobe and engulfed everything else, from casual basics to formal attire.
So, who cares if I stick to the same thing? Black is my comfort colour, it makes me feel good, and it will be a wardrobe relationship which I will have for a lifetime.
Go on, go out now and buy an LBD and a pair of killer black heels, you’ll see what I mean.