Good morning, darlings — though I say that with full awareness that it’s likely not morning by the time you’re reading this. You see, while most people rise to the smell of freshly brewed coffee or the unmistakable sizzle of a full English (or, if you’re across the pond, an American breakfast with enough syrup to drown your inbox), I awoke to something else entirely: fashion homework.
Yes — that dreaded ping of an email that doesn’t whisper inspiration but instead roars with unfinished business and demands attention before you’ve even had a chance to butter your toast.
But let’s be clear — I never like to say I dislike something. No, no. In fashion, "dislike" is far too final, far too lazy. What we often mistake as passé or uninspired might simply be an opportunity to challenge our trained eye — or even resurrect a moment we once adored. Because if fashion is dead, then surely it is our duty, as curators of style and dreamers of silhouettes, to revive it.
Now, some fashion lovers — the sort who wear their passion like red lipstick at breakfast — might take genuine offence when a designer’s attempt at nostalgia falls flat. I understand that. But darling, when it comes to art (and fashion is art, full stop), we must look again. And then again. Even when our desks are flooded with deadlines, and our inspiration feels six feet under in a box marked “Y2K comeback.”
If you truly love this world — the textures, the cuts, the eras — you must believe that the muses are never gone. They are present in the very fabric of what they left behind. Which brings me back to that little term I used earlier: homework.
Because this morning, before the oats could simmer or the kettle could sing, I was assigned the greatest homework of all — Retro Fashion. And what a divine assignment it is.
Now, I know what you’re thinking. Retro? Me? You couldn’t possibly pin me down to a single era — or even a dozen. My style is a curated chaos of silk gloves, vinyl boots, Victorian collars. You wouldn’t crack it in a thousand years — and I’d thank you not to try.
But yes, Retro. Darling, I adore it. Especially anything mid-century — the elegance, the tailoring, the glamour. To me, it sings freedom. It’s both “Coming to America” and old Hollywood royalty with a touch of wartime resilience. A proper nod to both British restraint and American drama — and oh, how I live for that marriage.
Now for the real gem I must share: if you're like me and constantly on the hunt for that elusive vintage silhouette, allow me to point you toward the treasure chest that is British Retro. Warning: it’s not just a shop, it’s a portal. You log in seeking one dress and emerge with ten frocks, three hats, two corsets, and a pair of Mary Janes that whisper "Brigitte Bardot on a rainy Tuesday in Soho."
It’s my go-to for when I want to feel like a walking love letter. And if you’re searching for something timeless for someone who deserves poetry in cotton and lace — this, darling, is your love story too.
Until the next sartorial sermon,
— R.A.
Your personal virtual designer
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