One of these days I will take actual outfit photos. Saturday was not that day.
Dress and boots: Dr Martens (the dress is on sale go buy it!)
Jacket: Superdry (bought 7 years ago)
Before we begin today’s tale of misfortunes past can we just all take note that I looked like a grumpy little biker chick on Saturday and I loved it. There was drizzle on and off I was just putting my jacket over my head to protect from it and wearing it over my shoulders the rest of the time. It seems like this isn’t something that everyone does because I only saw one other person wearing their jacket like this all day. We locked eyes and smiled at each other. She pointed right at me and said “I like it” with a wry smile. We both knew. Style darling, you’ve got it or you don’t. Her outfit was actually really lovely; she had a really nice light coloured spaghetti strap top tucked into a wide skirt that hit just below her knees and a really classy pair of stilettos. She had her modern/50s look down, girl was stylish.
Now, for today’s tale of teenage woe! I was in year 6 when this one happened, so I will have been 10 or 11. I don’t know if this is the case in other countries, but here in England when you’re in primary school (5-11 years old) you have a winter uniform and a summer uniform. The winter uniform can be a polo shirt and bottoms or maybe a shirt, blazer and bottoms but the summer uniform for girls was a gingham dress and white socks.
So, it’s summer, and my teacher miss Evans goes to me “Nadina can you hold the other side of these posters while I staple them to the wall.” The posters are on a wall which has a worktop in front of it, so I’m leaning over the worktop to hold the sides of these posters straight. Little bit higher, she says, littler bit higher so it’s straight. You see in year 5 I had a growth spurt, so I was about the same size in clothes just taller, and my parents were like “we’re not buying you a new dress for one year if this one still fits” which is fair enough. But as I’m leaning more to keep these posters straight, the room is going quieter and quieter and I don’t realise what’s happening until I sit back down and a guy in my class goes “nice ass, should be in playboy.” It dawns on me at this point that everyone in my class has just seen my underwear. I don’t remember particularly giving a shit, but I do remember going red. I WANTED THE GROUND TO SWALLOW ME UP!
Also, who knows what Playboy is when they’re 11?
If you have a stupid MIZZ story, you should totally email it to me! I’d love to collate them and illustrate them into some kind of project. Just put the subject of the email as something like MIZZ stories, or comment with them below.