Skip to main content

Two Very Different Coats; Two Very Different Outfits

Good evening folks! 

Today I present: two very different coats, two very different outfits (which both are representations of a style-war I fight in each day - crazy and bright vs. vintagey and slightly more classic). I hope these outfits give you a little bit of inspiration as to how to put together a faux-fur-coat-based outfit! If not, I hope I will at least entertain you a little. 


This outfit is honestly one of my favourite I've ever put together, sorry to brag. It's out-there enough to satisfy my thirst for eccentricity but also put-together enough for me to pass as sort-of-fashion-forward. This jacket is absolutely beautiful (but I am allergic to it, haha) and I can't stop wearing it. My apologies if you're an instagram follower of mine and are so darn sick of seeing it. 


I teamed *the coat* (insert jazz-hands here, it deserves it!) with a Miss Selfridge dress, which I will always praise to the high-heavens (and not just because I work there). I was doing delivery (where we unpack all the new stock, tag it and put it on hangers) and I hadn't even got this dress fully out of the plastic wrapper before I decided I loved it. The frill is just fabulous! 



Of course, the outfit would not be complete without some flamboyant heart earrings, fishnets and yellow socks. Also, these shoes were such a lucky charity shop find - genuine platform converse in my size!! I had a pair similar as a kid, so there's a great deal of nostalgia associated with these shockingly-awesome shoes. 

Deets: 
Coat: Jakke London
Dress: Miss Selfridge
Fishnets: Accessorize 
Socks: Tiger 
Shoes: Converse via charity shop

On to the second outfit! 


This (entirely different) outfit befits my more classic leanings with a beigeish faux-fur coat, adorned with green heart-shaped glass buttons. It was a steal at £9 and I couldn't leave it behind, in spite of the prospect of lugging back on the bus-ride home. 110% worth it! The jeans are vintage and have a heart-shaped red patch on the back, which unfortunately isn't pictured (it began to rain just as we started taking these pics), but is present all the same. 


I usually don't smile for the camera, but there we are!


I feel a tad Pippy-Longstocking-esque in this pic, I must say. The top is one of my extremely-frequently-worn pieces and is from Monki, I have it in four colours now, haha. The belt is also a favourite of mine - it belonged to my mother in her youth and she has since given it to me, yes! These loafers, I must say, I've not worn much due to the horrific Guernsey weather, but I can't wait til Spring to extract them from the depths of my wardrobe. 

Deets: 
Coat: Unknown via charity shop
Top: Monki
Belt: Vintage
Jeans: Vintage via Beyond Retro
Socks: Topshop
Loafers: River Island


A pic to finish off this post! Well, I hope you've enjoyed the outfits and my nonsensical ramblings, or a combination of both. 

If you feel like checking out my instagram, you can find me @jumper.dweller 

Stay fab, folks! You'll be hearing from me soon, promise. Over and out! 

louise 


Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Not-Dinner-Party-Appropriate: anecdotes from the mental hospital

 I feel like a time traveller. I've awoken in 2021, sleeping through a pandemic and my teenage years, now in my mid-twenties. I have no dinner-party-appropriate anecdotes. Only mental ill-health with bouts of questionable wellness. I have been in four different mental hospitals, which I predict could be four more than most people. No one talks about it, including me. Like, at all.  Whenever someone talks about mental illness, there is this most impenetrable silence, followed by: 'I knew someone who was depressed once.' Or a casual, almost nonchalant change of subject. I mean, we talk about mental health a lot - how to keep it afloat, how to do 'self-care' in a commercially-assisted sense. It's all body butters and face masks.  I don't like it when people reduce preventing mental illness down to looking after yourself or not. That is a large part of it, a whole team of people looked after me at my worst. Most things cannot be made better with a face mask.  It

Imposters: a story about a Capgras delusion

  It's cold. I'm always so cold. My hands quiver blue and wrists bloom purple, after days of bang, bang, banging my wrist on the arm of my chair. I don't think I'm okay, but I don't think I'm not okay either. I think, I think, I think I'm breaking. I am on the children's ward. I have not seen my real parents for months. Some strange people visit sometimes. I hide from them. They are not my parents. They are often nice and I begin to trust them, then they'll do something off-kilter and I shy away again, like a beaten dog.  I had climbed out of a window, bawled through the lane outside the house and taken solace at a friend's home up the road. Gently I was led back to my childhood home and bundled into the car, driven to the hospital and admitted in hopes of finding a way to avoid another inpatient admission. We couldn't find one.  I arrive at the unit, brittle. Last time I was in this position, I had a home, but now I'm adrift. My parents

Section three - a mental hospital anecdote

  There is so much that I can't tell you about my third admission, so much I can't remember. Illness blurs the details and the privacy I owe to my friends erases the daily minutiae of the unit. In short, I had been sectioned - section three, six months. A treatment order, that in retrospect, could probably have been avoided. Or maybe that is just what I like to tell myself when I think about it late at night.  I had found myself in a field, shivering in the early evening sun. It was July, I was in love, but still very, very ill. I had been taken on four occasions to our local accident and emergency department that week. I was, as I read later in my unit-admission report, 'no longer manageable in the community'. I was sad, but determined. I was determined to make an exit any way I could. Instead I was flown to Woking, heavily sedated - so much so that I have no memory of the journey there and was deemed 'unresponsive' in my admission interview.  I digress. So man