2013: Resolutions and Reflections

I’m not going to lie, 2012 has been tough. T-U-F-F, tough.

On New Year’s Eve 2011, I was ringing midnight in on the balcony of a flat I loved, in a city I adored, in the arms of a man who I was fully convinced I was going to spend the rest of my life with.  There may have been a bottle of champagne.  I spent New Year’s Eve 2012 sitting on my little sister’s bed, checking up on my reading on her laptop (because my computer died in November).  In my pajamas.  I am also single, in case you couldn’t tell.

The weird thing is this:  I am much happier now than I was back then.  2012 was the year that I learned how to push through the bad stuff.  I started the year sad and complacent with a boyfriend and a nice home, then lost everything very suddenly and ended up not really minding that much.  Life is a funny old thing (although I am starting to get sick of the character-building aspects of rejection and setbacks).  2012 is the year I officially got over myself.

In 2012, I also learned the following:

  • The best seats to book on a train to Dublin, and what you can do to stop a stag party with cans of cheap cider from sitting next to you (the answer is to fart, and do it LOUDLY).
  • That one of the most terrifying things a date can do is bring you back to his flat and say “By the way, my flatmate is addicted to crack, PCP and heroin”.
  • There is such a thing as a pair of comfy heels. Unfortunately, they are also not very high heels.
  • Acne coverage is a skill that must be learned, and learned well.  It is not something you are born with.  Unlike acne, the probability of which you are definitely born with.
  • There is something to be learned from everybody, even total douchebags with Peter Pan complexes and bad taste in shoes.
  • I can get through almost anything with my will, a bit of good luck and a working internet connection.  But I probably don’t have enough cardio fitness to get through the impending zombie apocalypse.
  • To never listen to my mother when it comes to the following; clothes, finances, food, the most efficient way to heat a room, how many times I should take the dog for a walk, what I can and cannot write about, why I can’t borrow her Burberry and Jil Sander coats.
  • To always listen to my mother when it comes to pretty much everything else.

Last year, I wrote a post with my 2012 resolutions and somehow, I managed to do all but ‘floss’ (too much info, I know…).  I’ve included it again this year.  ‘Buy Art’ is another repeat offender – buying art is always worthwhile.

Original collage by Ben Giles.  I defaced it with my good intentions.

Original collage by Ben Giles. I defaced it with my good intentions.

Quite do-able, I think.

The Last Licentiate Column of ’12, but the First of ’13

I googled ‘depressing new year’ and this is what I got. Via tumblr.

2012 was an interesting year. If you have a Facebook account, you can see the highlights, a seemingly-random assortment of pictures and statuses that made up a homogenised version of what has not been the best year for anyone. My ‘highlights’ were uniformly depressing – breaking up with a long-term boyfriend, leaving the city I loved, getting a dream job that turned out distinctly nightmarish and moving back home with my parents. Needless to say, I didn’t click the ‘share’ button (which is pretty much redundant anyway as I’m sharing everything with you now).

What Facebook didn’t tell me was that 2012 would be the year I started listening to Lauren Laverne on BBC6 Music. Laverne, a British DJ, is funny, erudite and unsurprisingly, very stylish. Her most recent fashion column in The Observer told women searching for festive Christmas Clothing to wear something stretchy (for all the food you’ll be eating) and red (for obvious reasons). It’s pragmatic dressing at its best.

Really, who would I be to tell you what to wear on Christmas Day? Wear your pajamas if you want. Eat your dinner in the nip if that tickles your giblets (just be careful where you put that gravy boat). Christmas isn’t about clothes – unless you get a Topshop voucher in your stocking.

Instead, let’s look back on the year that gave us Raf Simons’ first couture outing for Dior, the rise of the Irish fashion designer and the start of Kate Middleton baby bump mania. Are we done yet? Good.

Who know what 2013 will bring? If the Mayans were indeed predicting an apocalypse, then nothing will happen. We’ll all be dead and I can stop worrying about whether I should go to the Twelve Pubs of Christmas still wearing my pajamas and if I have spinach in my teeth (and I always do). Here are my predictions for 2013.

Lena Dunham will become an unlikely style icon. The creator of ‘Girls’ has been proclaimed the voice of my generation. Soon, she will be the face of my generation, thanks to her very cute elfin crop and bordering on weird taste in clothes. She recently turned up at an event wearing only a large shirt. No trousers. I smell a trend. At least, I think that’s what I smell.

The ankle will become the new erogenous zone. We will all be rolling up our trousers and displaying a bit of shapely flesh, Victorian-style. I’ve been writing fashion for a few years now and I only get more surprised by how sheeplike people get in the face of a new trend with each passing day. However, this is probably the most sensible micro-trend I’ve yet heard of. Ankles will be sexy. At least we’re not looking to the midriff anymore.

We’ll all become a bit smarter about shopping. Clothes maketh the man, or so said Polonius. Then again, Polonius died a fairly sticky death and people are becoming much more clued-in about what their clothing choices say about them without the help of Shakespeare. Thanks to the proliferation of information on the internet, people are learning more about ethical clothing, feminism in style and how it’s ok to dress a little bit weird. Self-expression will become a little more evident. 2013 is going to be an interesting year.

ADDENDUM:  Peplums can f**k right off.