The red Levi's that fit like a glove

And the death of yet another version of me.

When Betty and I arrived in the UK in early August to spend a few weeks with my dad, the thing I was most excited about was having no plans. There was no desire to optimise our time there or create any kind of schedule. The brief:

• Sleep-ins

• Cosy couch time in front of the fire

• Spending quality time with family

• Going to old pubs in old towns

• Walking my dad’s dogs

• Castle hunting

• And of course, thrifting anytime the opportunity presented itself

I was quite introspective for most of the trip because I’ve been moving through some dense personal storylines as I get more and more values-aligned in my life. No one really talks about this part — how dark it can get. How deep we have to reach down inside of ourselves to pull out what’s true for us. How clear we need to be about the highest vision we hold for our lives and also our relationships as we interrogate who and what is a fit for how we’d now like to exist in the world. I’m talking in this version and expression of us. So much dies when we grow. It’s painful.

One thing I used to love to do while I was overseas for work or pleasure was find the local Zara, Topshop, H&M, COS and & Other Stories to shop the European season. I used to take so much pride in finding the coolest pieces from those stores and bringing home a brand-new wardrobe of clothes that no one else in Sydney had (I mean of course they did but in my mind I felt different and original). I’d mix those high street pieces back with a designer bag and shoes or a cool vintage find. I felt so… singular. And I guess on some level this is how we cultivate our personal style — it being less about what we’re wearing and more about how we’re wearing it and with what.

On this trip, I tried to get excited about looking in those stores but I literally couldn’t access the feeling. I went to one H&M once and bought three tops (I packed for cooler weather and it was quite warm) but that was it. I realised when I was walking out of the store that a death of yet another version of me had officially taken place.

Up until recently I “wanted to not want to” shop fast fashion but I still enjoyed doing it here and there, whereas what crystallised on the trip is that I actually don’t desire it anymore. And to be clear I’m not condemning shopping fast fashion — especially because there’s an accessibility layer that’s often not discussed in the naming and shaming of it, and I also know I’ll still pop into Zara from time to time when I’m in a pinch or there’s a very specific item that will complete a seasonal vibe. The difference will be that it’ll feel less like a guilty pleasure and more like a last resort.

Hold on, this is giving virtue signaling.

What I’m trying (pretty unsuccessfully) to share is what breaking through the threshold of “I want to be” to “I am” can feel like within a seemingly one dimensional but actually very complex area of our lives: What we choose to wear and what those choices say about us.

One thing I can say is that bumping into a new embodied belief (which beyond the optics is what has actually taken place here) has opened up an incredible amount of space for me to fully sink into the distinct pleasure of thrifting and the potential of all the stories I might go on to tell about the pieces I find.

Fit like a glove (which almost never happens).

The red Levi’s I found in a vintage store near Portobello Road (how original of me) actually feel more like a story arc, to be honest. It’s a bit like life before the red jeans and life after the red jeans. And even though I hadn’t pinned red jeans specifically, I have pinned and worn a lot of red as it’s trended this season. Which is surprising as I used to hate red. I found it pressed down on something in me that was quite dark. It made me leave my body. Hmm. I shall take that into therapy.

From my Pinterest.

Anyway, my biggest observation about thrifting in the UK was the quality for the price. Everything was so reasonable and I can only assume the rich supply of interesting, good quality pieces is down to the population size and the enviable diversity of race, culture, taste and heritage.

The Jackets.

Two other special finds were The Jackets — an over-sized men’s leather jacket in black (£70), and a soft, chocolate brown and black one that has more structure in the shoulders (£8!). I’ve been looking for an over-sized leather jacket for so long and I surprised myself that I didn’t buy the black one the day I saw it. I tried it on and it looked exactly how I’d envisioned this illusive jacket to look in my head, but I think I was jet-lagged or something so I walked out without it. Of course I couldn’t stop thinking about it and went back for it a few days later.

Not super special but still good finds.

I got some other bits and bobs that don’t feel particularly special but still decent finds. The red granny cardi with the scalloped neckline I’ve worn a lot tucked into baggy denim with ballet flats, and the brown suede kitten heels I picked up in Hexham for £5 have already had a trip out with white jeans and a singlet. I also got a couple of gingham dresses for Betty that are actually old school dresses. Super sweet to think about the little girls who owned them and what they learnt while wearing them. Clothes carry stories.

My silver inspo.

Ok… I think I’ve saved the best for last. I’ve been slowly transitioning back to silver jewellery and have been on the lookout for some statement pieces — preferably a bit banged up and worn-in. In my return to naturalness, wearing gold has left me feeling a bit too… done. You know what I mean? A bit too put together. Too polished. This is the big thing I feel called to evolve beyond and a simple swap of metals has created such a surprising sense of authenticity. All of a sudden, I feel like me again when I’m getting dressed.

Dream finds.

I found two perfect pieces on the same day in different stores. The cuff I nearly screamed when I saw it in an op shop (Hexham again!) for £6. And the earrings were in a vintage store and I actually went back for these. They were £45 which for vintage silver I was willing to pay, but I thought they were worth more like £30 so I went back and did something I never do — which is negotiate the price. “Would you take £30” felt so awkward leaving my mouth but it turns out she would and she did.

I mean can you even. I can’t.

I also saw this antique star sign ottoman in the same store and became immediately obsessed. Wish I’d had the funds to ship it home and the space in our apartment to enjoy it! I feel like I will never forget this ottoman.

If anyone’s out there… I’d love to hear about your special finds. What have you stumbled upon in an op shop or a vintage store that felt like it was sitting there waiting for you?

Alison xo