Reading. It's something that I wish I had indulged in more as a child. I remember quite vividly sitting, cross legged (my gangly pins were never meant for that bloody position, forced upon you at school) watching the 'boffs' being awarded their Book Club gold badge for reading one hundred books. At the time I wasn't envious, probably more so of them being able to get up in front of the whole school and shake the headmaster's hand. I was a quivering wreck if I had to do so much as stand in front of a crowd.
When I look back, I wish I had showed more of an interest in reading. That and wishing my attention span lasted beyond the first chapter of the Poddington Peas. I much preferred the back page where each and every pea stood to attention for their mug-shot. My favourites were Pc Pod, SweetPea and SkipPea. My early years got off to a good start. I have memories of books that I was fond of: 'Spot the Dog', 'Care Bears' and 'Hairy Mclary from Donaldson's Dairy'. I remember creeping around the local village library, searching for the coolest books that would inspire me to become like the kids of 'Book Club'. Sweet Valley High Twins were cool books but they obviously didn't inspire enough. I can't remember finishing one. The intention was there.
Then, as teenagers do, I became slightly obsessed with beautiful things. I never felt beautiful as a teenager. I didn't have boyfriends because I was too tall. I was constantly reminded of my 'moomin' features: a long oval face and googly eyes. My ears poked through my lacklustre dirty blonde hair and I would turn the deepest crimson innumerable times in one day. I even tried my luck at modelling. I thought that I could use my height to my advantage and as many people suggested, because of my height (obviously), I actually believed that I could be a model, a beautiful model. Still, those dreams were thwarted after several trips to time wasting castings and promises of work. My dear parents even took me to Select Model Management in London, right at the time when 'Babewatch', the modelling documentary that founded Vernon Kay, was essential viewing. He even walked past us whist I hopelessly tried to forge a non existent career for myself. The man who had the sorry job of taking pity upon me was more interested in my Dad - obviously gay. It just wasn't meant to be.
Then clothes came to the fore. Throughout my teenage years I never wanted to be the same as everybody else. I was determined to look different and always wanted to look older. I suppose my height was an insecurity that I disguised with clothes. I felt like I looked older than most of my school peers so I dressed accordingly. Being different brought a sense of empowerment. I felt confident. I enjoyed looking and being (my birthday was September 1) the oldest. I developed a penchant for clothes that would perpetuate this surge of confidence, which then manifested into a huge desire to pursue fashion as a career.
When I turned 17 I embarked on a Fashion Design course at the London College of Fashion, followed by short courses in fashion journalism, numerous voluntary internships for magazines, newspapers and fashion PR companies, a degree in fashion journalism and where I was once adverse to reading anything that required effort, I am now a fully trained fashion journalist. I’m an avid reader of the Financial Times (progress from Hairy McClary wouldn't you say?) and my knowledge has ushered in a great degree of confidence. In fact, on a daily basis, my life consists of me being immersed in all of the literature that I can physically consume, which segues conveniently into my next revelation. I love reading newspapers.
Somebody once told me that having a love for fashion alone wouldn’t bring me success. I have, over the years abandoned the tabloids and pursued upmarket titles. I have come to appreciate the writings of Suzy Menkes of the International Herald Tribune, the Financial Times' Vanessa Friedman, the Telegraph's columnist and Senior Editor of Vogue US Sarah Mower and Lisa Armstrong of the Times. They are all style commentators but equally, and so brilliantly, informative and engaging in their writing styles. Without meaning to patronize them, they're knowledge of the wider spectrum of media, society, economics, politics etc is evident and it is absorbing such quality journalism that inspires me to read widely.
I am testament to the old adage that knowledge brings confidence. I enjoy reading. I enjoy learning and understanding the fashion market and the neighboring industries that influence it, the movers and shakers of the retail industry and what’s in store for the industry that is of great economical importance. As silly as it sounds, I actually enjoy my commute in and out of London every week day. It allows me time (which is scarce) to catch up on information that is relevant to me and my life. Today I learnt that David Cameron drinks the same energy boosting vitamin drink as me, Berocca. Whilst he also acknowledges, like I do, the fact that it turns your pee an illuminating shade of yellow. It is to know such crucial details like this that will send my career soaring to dizzy heights. Joking aside, sometimes it is small snippets of news and information, of greater importance, that enlightens and educates me and I like knowing.
With the rise of the popularity of the internet I now receive my news via RSS (Really Simple Syndication), which feeds all of your chosen websites into one newsreader. In the morning this enables me to direct my cursor to relevant news pieces with one hand, whilst drinking my berocca in the other. Although these modern web conveniences are, well, convenient – I still can’t see myself without my commuting companion. The Evening Standard recently reported the market fall of 23.6% over the past decade for sales of the five up market papers. Could it be that over the next ten years we'll all be packed into cable cars (Boris Johnson's next venture) and equipped with ipads - not a flimsy papery thing in sight?
