The last couple of days before embarking on major travel always leave me equal parts restless and lazy as eff. Packing is a chore that usually leaves me staring at my clothes and saying 'Stuff it, I'll just take this and look a state' and at the same time I spend hours flitting back and forth to my wardrobe reconsidering every decision I've ever made. It doesn't even bear thinking about the chores I have left to do, despite the fact that the answers to my packing dilemmas probably lie in my ironing and washing piles. I always despair for these last two days, because all I want to do is go already. Who has time to wait?

... It might not come as a surprise that I was always that kid who never fell asleep on Christmas Eve. I wanted to open presents NOW and the excitement was too much.

Days like this often end with me considering a whole new wardrobe, some far-off, imaginary edit of all the pieces I lust after but never purchase. It turns into numerous ASOS tabs and re-analysing anything I pick out of my wardrobe. Why was this piece a thing I thought I'd wear? Since when have I been the type of person to feel comfortable in attention grabbing clothing? Essentially, it ends with a nice bundle of insecurities plopped at my feet. You can't wear that, you'd look ridiculous!

And, once again, my packing boils down to what is comfortable and discreet? But mostly, what can I get away with wearing more than once without having to wash it? I would love to possess the confidence and figures of fashion bloggers who pack loose fitting, flowy clothing and look like some effortless style goddess even after hours of travelling. Or a woman who can just rock a stylish dress in the day like it's NBD and never look out of place. But we can't always have the things we want.



Although, sometimes my insecurities make me wonder: is this the reason I latched onto makeup so intensely? Did I look at beauty products as a way to feel that prettiness with a personal creative outlet? Unlike fashion, makeup never really felt like it was exclusive to the lithe beauties with curls that tumble down over the shoulders, or those women who strut out of the house looking ready to take on the world. Playing around with colours and textures could be done at home and washed off, usually with less financial (and space) investment than fashion. So, maybe that's why my makeup drawers take pride of place in my bedroom while the wardrobe is relegated to the corner of an unheated spare room.

... More likely? I'm probably overthinking it. And my style is simply comfy and completely unfashionable. But who even knows?