Day 140 – Holey hoisery
- Today’s dress is from George at Asda. My friend, Monica Kenny bought it for me along with the red dress last week. It is a little on the short side so I try to tame it with black tights. Unfortunately I end up looking like more of a hussy than ever. The tights or so I am told have two massive holes in them. I briefly consider filling them in with a black marker pen but it seems a little extreme and I can only find a purple marker. In the end I go for bare legs and trainers as I am travelling up to Manchester to see the boy. When he sees me he tells me I look cute but I fear I resemble an N Dubz fan, which I am not.
Day 134 – The girl in the red dress
Wearing a red dress, perhaps because of all of the popular culture references which stand alongside it can be a bit like playing a part in your own private theatre. There are few things in this world which lend femininity more readily than a red dress. The little black dress the six inch high stiletto and the black pencil lined silk stockings are a short cut to traditional sex appeal but the red dress is more about the way it makes the wearer feel.
Wearing it today I feel stronger than I have been in some time and throughout the day I can not help but be pleased as punch with my reflection which betrays someone who is smiling, actually smiling! 
The colour is so bright and vivid that whenever I walk the light catches the red in the windows and just for a moment I get a glimpse of the person I become when I wear red. Though I have been at war with my body for months I finally feel happy with what the dress is draping.
At one stage a pigeon swoops over my head whilst I’m passing by Sainsburys and though the wretched things usually scare me stiff my body just folds forward away from the tips of its wings and standing as it soars up and on above me I smile at the strangeness of it all. I do not respond so well to compliments these days but in this dress I accept them with grace. A man in the market tells me I am a sight for his sore eyes and rather than frown, looking away and having a sulk I turn and thank him.
When I woke up this morning I did not feel confident. I fell flat when I caught sight of my now 26-year-old reflection. My footballers wife blow-dry had fallen flat and one too many glasses of wine saw circles round my eyes more fitting for a panda. Yet once I put on this dress I felt strong, feminine and elated. This will be one of the dresses that I wish I could keep if only for the way it made me feel.
- My good friend Monica Kenny picked me this particular red dress up from one of the charity shops in Kettering. It is originally from Next and the material is wonderfully heavy so it clings kindly. I don’t usually push this as I do not know when the dresses will go up for sale but whoever gets this one will be a lucky lady.
Day 127 – Lost in translation
When I came up with the name for the blog I was amazed to see it was not already in use. It took a long time before the blog would come up on Google so the other day when I did a search and got hundreds of hits I felt quite pleased at how far the project has come. Admittedly some of the ways people find me can at times be a tad troubling, more so because I wonder what it is I have written which makes my posts appear. Just from this week the following gave me cause for concern; ”Kama sutra course Ireland”, “Coital kryptonite”, “Busty Amateur Girls”, “Transvestites putting face mask on”, ”Cute backside women” (okay I admit it I was actually quite pleased with that one) and most terrifying of all hot leggings. When have I ever said the word leggings and hot in the same sentence? How has my blog become associated with such a statement? The dodgy kryptonite loving log ons I can handle but this? Just to clarify, in my own personal opinion I do not find leggings hot, sexy or cool.
When it came to naming the blog, though I am sure the film Lost In Translation played a part in my thinking until tonight I had never seen it all the way through. An old boyfriend and I got through five minutes of it but it wasn’t his thing and we turned it off soon after it started.
There was also the worry that some people might not like dresses and would be put off by a frock related title; for those doubting the existence of such an anomaly see above for existence of coital cryptonite. This is proof if any was needed that there are strange trails of thought at work in the world in which we live.
They still sit in storage beside my tin box of love letters and my shoe box full of cards, correspondence and the kind of tokens and trinkets which would excite only me. I hope that one day I will be able to sort through them, as ramblings of the past but at the moment they are my present and looking at them is still too raw.- My dress has already been criticised today by the head of Harborough police. I saw him on the streets and he said he was not overly keen on my combination of colours; the pink tights I believe were a little too garish for him. I was a little offended and thought about suggesting he focus his attentions on arresting the legging lovelies flashing their front rumps nearby but I was running a little late for work and had to go on my merry way. The dress got me into a rather uncomfortable situation later on the same day when the Liberal Democrat councillors came to call. As a sleep deprived reporter I had not even considered the political connotations of my choice and had to come clean and admit the dress was down to an overall shortage of office wear rather than an attempt to fly the colours of any clan. Today’s dress is a present from my Godmother who bought it from a shop in Harborough called Labels for Less. As I said I was a little but sleep deprived and in a rush to get ready I paired it with Kurt Geiger wedges and police officer displeasing pink tights.
Day 122 – Sanctuary in the second city
Every year Salford puts on a two day festival called Sounds of the Other City. It has a little more grit than most two day inner city dos and plenty of good ales, fancy foreign beers and tasty fresh food more commonly found at a farmers market than a festival. The weekend has not started well but I’m trying to be a more positive person and so I pick out the prettiest dress, comb out my hair and with my glad rags on try to raise my spirits for what has traditionally been a slamming party.
Though it wasn’t meant to be the way the boy and I end up alone and having the kind of time alone together that we rarely have these days. It is one of those days when you find yourself falling in love just a little more than ever before, I hope you’ve had them. You remember why it is that you work through the tears and the tantrums because in truth this is the one in your life with who everything just feels right.
We go skipping through the shops like children, searching for a cardigan to keep me warm because I was too worried about looking good for my boy in the band. The weather is freezing and the boy does his best as usual to usher me into his hooded top but its blue and for boys and the dress is too pretty to be covered by it. We end up settling on a long grey cardigan from Wallis which will now be my new cover it up for work. The problem with the project is that I have lots of very pretty dresses which are borderline suitable for the workplace, some a little short, some a little low, this will make even the shortest shimmery shift suitable for the most conservative court appearance.
After sipping down strawberry beers and munching on chicken tacos and tasty chilli which even my soft-core taste buds can handle we slink back on the walls to watch a wailing guitar guy leads us in a chorus of She’ll be coming round the mountains when she comes. We glimpse an old friend who I haven’t seen for some time, she is looking well and loved up and there is something about seeing somebody so content that cheers me through just as much as my cherry beer; strawberry got sickly quickly.
We head over to the gig where the boy plays an acoustic set. The crowd seem to like it and I wish I could be playing the part of the reviewer once more. The venue has a great feel to it and the two girls who put it on are either extremely excitable or just pissed. Either way their enthusiasm is infectious and the crowd laps it up.
We end up hanging out with the other Onions and our friend Ben, who is just lovely. The last time we were here our gang was a lot bigger and I miss the rest of the crew, especially the girls; Anna, Clara, Ellen and Niki. They are all great company and I wish we had all found work in the same city. Sometimes I find myself a little jealous of London which has landed all these great ladies and I lament not making it down there to see them as I should.
We watch a surf band from Wales. They are playing at one of the city churches where they are selling beer and alcopops. It is surreal and though I fear my mother might not like it I lie beside the boy on a blown up sofa beside the altar. I figure its okay because this is the Church of England and I figure they do things different from us Catholics, we kneel.
Later on we head back to The New Oxford, where the boy had his gig. There’s a band Frazer King, friends of the boys who are playing and based on the last time I saw them they are well worth a watch. Though I do not tell the boy, there is something a little sexy about their lead singer who growls the lyrics. When we get there we find the band outside, setting up on the steps of Salford Magistrates Court, having decided they are too big for the venue. I am amused by their arrogance but their choice of setting is inspirational and the set is sublime. I shiver throughout and see traces of blue on my lips but I don’t want to miss a moment and dance and sway with the boy just to keep warm. They put on a show and its one of those gigs you just know you’ll never forget. I wish the crew were all here but its great and I’m happy and in love and I don’t care if it lasts, its here and we’re happy.
- The dress is from Topshop, a tea dress. I usually hate showing my back, its broad and has a mole which I would love to move but its an eight and when it fits I get a bit carried away and forget all my usual insecurities if only for one day. It is on loan from Kat Ingham, who is in Manchester but who I unfortunately missed out on seeing tonight as she was at the sound of the other city, or Maps.
Day 120 – The road to escape
One of the difficult things about this project is constantly being on camera. Every day, no matter how rough I feel I put on a smile, well sometimes, strike a pose and with a little bit of make up and a lot of low lighting, try to look pretty. Lately though I have been suffering from the body blues and though I long to slip into arse skimming slimming trousers and shirts my never ending pile of dresses beckon and the camera calls to record my every insecurity.
I want to be happy with my figure I really do but I honestly can’t remember when I was last able to look into the mirror and be pleased with what came back at me. The difficult thing is that its my own fault, the tablets I am taking threaten weight gain and unless I start getting into some serious cardio I am going to continue to struggle to combat the effects.
I know I am not alone in this problem, anti-depressants and bipolar medication is renowned for causing weight gain and an increase in appetite and it is a pain. For me it felt all the more frustrating when I started to gain the weight as whenever I am going through a manic phase my metabolism peaks and I burn through food like fire licks through fuel.
Though it is vein and self centred, part of the reason I protested to going on the quetiapine in the first place was because I was afraid of putting on weight. I have been trying to force myself to move more quickly in the morning so I can have more time at toning up but as another side effect which I am still struggling with is sleepiness so far I have managed just a few snatched sit ups and a run of squats whilst brushing my teeth.
What cheered me up a little when I got home this evening is knowing I am not the only one. My mysterious dress donor wrote again and quite considerately to my current condition sent size 12 dresses with a little more room to hide away in. In the letter she admitted she too is currently struggling with her size and the temptations of left over Easter eggs.
It is always nice to know that one is not alone and the letter cheered me up enough to keep the hip hugging dress on till the photos were done. Inspired my letter writing friend I make a decision to stop being such a lazy bum and start moving more and snacking less on the tempting pastry puffs sold downstairs at the delicatessen.
Just because it cheered me up, and in the hope it will make you smile I have included the third letter from my mystery sender. For a change I thought I’d give it you unedited without my take on the translation. It came again tucked into a shoe box with three other dresses. Perhaps she is a shoe box collector or a fan of footwear? The puzzle continues.
Hulow ugayn Eeleenor
Howes yew bin keepeeng? Ay howp yoos wel nd lyf bin treedeeng yew goot. Iym owkay. Feal betr wen weder ees varm.
Jewst senteeng yoo unodder feew dreseengs unt beltses. Howpes dem fited yew.
Iyam feree oops set at de mowment bekaos Ayhv pooted on sum wayt. Bin eeteeng Eestr egses unt siteeng om baksyd eensted ov dooeeng fingses.
Mast stp dees ut wuns – nortee roomn dat Ay am.
Efree budee ees us wel us kn bea ekspektd und injoyeeng de nyse 2unchine. Vil wryteeng too yew soown agayn. Mutch luves.
- Today’s dress is another from my mystery sender. It is beautiful linen and button downed with a cute little collar. I wore it to work with a long sleeved black top and red heart shaped belt but by the time I got to Manchester I was feeling a bit constricted and lost the belt and extra bulk of the top. The tights are a gift from my mother who picked them up from one of the Loros charity shops. They were still in their sleeve and though they look like they come from the 80s tights are tights. My mother and I often find really decent tights in charity stores which have never been opened. Its a good place to look and often you can find silk stockings for a bit of a fifties feminine treat for your feet.
Day 92 – Hats and hosiery
As most of you will be aware, all money raised from 365 Dresses: The Mind Project will go towards mental health charity group Mind. The reason I chose Mind is because as well as raising money for its helplines Mind campaigns to create a society which “promotes and protects good mental health for all – a society where people with experience of mental distress are treated fairly, positively and with respect.” Mind are a national charity who operate locally; the group I went to the other day were affiliated with Mind but are relatively independent to act in the way they feel is most suitable for the Market Harborough area.
The objective of Mind which most appeals to me is their work to change attitudes towards people with mental health issues. This issue is always at the forefront of my mind because all too often people I know who have been having head troubles hit an even harder wall when they try to talk to friends or family about their condition. For example, though I am sure many of you will have your own horror stories about similar attitudes, I remember talking to a friend about prejudices towards mental health and the amount of misinformation out there when she gingerly admitted to me that her boyfriends attitude to people with depression is , “well they just need to cheer up, don’t they?”
It is an unfortunate but important fact to bear in mind that one in four people are likely to experience a mental health problem, every year. This means that in the harshest possible way it could be you and it is charities like Mind who work to ensure that should you ever become ill there are groups and systems in place to stop you falling down too far, to catch you before things get too bad. In my opinion one of the most important things this charity does is it attempts to ensure that if you do try to talk to friends, colleagues or family about your troubles you will not be met by prejudiced and insensitive attitudes.
If you go on any mental health blog, not mine for some reason, you will usually find one idiot in a chat room telling people to get off their backside and fix themselves. Tom Cruise, an influential actor regardless of his petite form once thought it was advisable to tell people on a national television show that mental health medication was somehow unnecessary. Don’t get me wrong I loved Top Gun but I have never watched another one of his movies ever since and should I ever have the displeasure to meet him I might very likely use the only thing we have in common, our height, to present him with the sort of right hook I generally reserve for would be rapists and muggers.
The objective on the Mind website which impresses me most because it challenges such attitudes is this – “People who experience mental distress are always at the very heart of our work. We listen and make sure their voices are heard by those who influence change. We demand higher standards in mental health care and challenge discrimination wherever it occurs.”
The reason I am being a bit more militant than usual is because I am feeling a little frustrated. I like to think that in some small way this blog might play a part in helping change at least one persons attitude towards people with mental health issues. Even if it just means people realise having a mental health condition does not necessarily prevent people from work, play or having fairly normal lives. Today though I came across a government survey re-tweeted by Mind that reminded me of just how much work there is still to do to challenge peoples attitudes towards mental health.
The Department of Health’s annual survey of attitudes towards mental health has revealed some frankly archaic threads of thought that still exist in our society today. I do not generally like to make people reading the blog feel uncomfortable but please give these figures some thought. Is this something you believe, if so why. I really want to encourage a bit of feedback and debate on this because as annoying as attitudes like these are, they do exist and if they only ever get aired in situations where they go unchallenged how can they ever be changed or challenged.
- 16 per cent of people believe only 1 in 100 people are affected by mental health problems every year.
- 26 per cent of those surveyed believe ex-inpatients can be trusted as babysitters.
- Agreement with statements like “we need to adopt a more tolerant attitude towards people with mental health” has fallen.
- 18 per cent of people believe that having mental health facilities in the area downgrades the neighbourhood.
- 20 per cent feel that anyone with a history of mental health problems should be excluded from taking public office. FYI if this little gem was in place sixty years ago Churchill would not have been and call me crazy but given the choice of Boris Johnson or Stephen Fry I know where I would be making my cross come the general election.
- 24 per cent of people believe there is sufficient existing services for people with mental health.
It is not all negative news however there has been some positive changes since the last survey was carried out in 2009 . For example 75 per cent of people now believe that those with mental health problems should have the same right to a job as anyone else. There were also several indications that people generally are becoming more accepting of those with mental illness and more understanding about its causes and triggers with many people now being aware that many conditions are entirely treatable. I am aware that a lot of this makes for uncomfortable reading, but even if it just gives you something to ask your partner about at the dinner table, makes you consider an attitude of your own you didn’t even know you had or even just makes you laugh about Tom Cruise being a total eejot it will have been worthwhile.
- Today’s dress is from French Connection, another donation by Hannah Cantrell in-fact. the tights which are wonderful and thankfully free of holes are from Red Herring, Debenhams, £3 in the sale and the beret and wedding hat I have had for so long I honestly can’t remember where they are from. Apologies for the photos I have been on my loan-some.
