Someone asked me the other day ‘Why a career in Fashion?’
It was a question that took me by surprise- as I guess I’ve never really, truly sat down and thought about it. But I did come up with, what I thought, was a pretty good answer.
When I was younger, I grew up with a very trendy mother: She was always so stylish, and still is really. But there’s something about having such a tan, slim, fashionable mother that gives a young girl hopes and aspirations to be the same once she grows up.
Another influence in my career choice is my grandmother. She studied Fashion design and made clothes on a regular basis when she was in her teens and early twenties; and she also has a background in Fine Art. Plus a degree in Art History. So; her passions and skill set have been a clear sway on my path. I decided I loved all those things as well!
Finally, growing up playing with Barbie dolls, then Bratz Dolls once I got a bit older; fuelled my desire to work in Fashion and express myself through the way I dress myself. It gave me aspirations to be anything that I wanted to be. And more importantly, it gave me a medium in which to escape my tedious and sometimes sad life. Even now, if I’m feeling down or un-inspired. I’ll watch one of the cute anime movies or listen to their cheesy pop-rock music. It really helps. Honestly.
…
A couple of years ago, I wrote an article about whether you actually need a degree to ‘make-it’ in a career in fashion. This was just as I was finishing my degree so I was fresh out of the stress of dissertation-writing, project completing and sitting in front of my laptop endlessly obsessing over Photoshop, making sure that picture is perfect. Honestly, I was glad to see the back of it. I was a keen graduate; fresh, enthusiastic and ready to make my mark on the world of work.
Now it’s coming up to 2 years since my graduate show: and I’m working in retail still (albeit full time now), I’m back living at home and I’m not a super Fashion PR Guru/Stylist/Radio Presenter/Writer/Film Maker/Fashionista. To be brutally honest, I miss having projects to do and deadlines to make; feeling like I had some direction as to where I wanted to go and how I was going to get there. I miss my student loans and being able to survive on a part-time wage. Living away from home and having the freedom to say ‘Do you know what? I worked hard on that project so I deserve a night out!’
OK, yes, socially, it wasn’t the best time of my life. And there are a lot of things I would do differently for sure. But being around creative people, getting inspired by their ideas, having a library on my door step. Even having a decent printer I could use. I very much took it for granted. I know I did.
You could say my uni experience was-unusual. At the beginning, I was living with a little old lady 10 minutes down the road from campus (if you could call it that). I paid £90 a week for bed, breakfast and an evening meal. She even washed/ironed my clothes and bought me birthday and Christmas presents! She was very sweet, but I felt like I was missing out big time. I was separated from my peers; I never went on nights out. I didn’t even partake in freshers week. I had just split up from someone who I considered to be the love of my life, and I was alone and miserable. I just focused all my attention on my projects and essays; and did extremely well because of it. I even had to travel backwards and forwards to my home in Eastbourne (which admittedly wasn’t very far) to my job, as I couldn’t get one in Worthing.
Come second year, I had had enough. In my first year, I had started a relationship with someone new, someone older who I met online (another article for another day). He drove, had a full time job and was a big drinker. He taught me to take more risks and do what I wanted, however he was quite emotionally abusive so we ended up parting ways before I even started second year.
I made friends with a group of girls and we started going out in Brighton pretty much every week. I was finally having the ‘proper’ uni experience and I was loving it! However, the lady I lived with started moaning, so the first chance I got to move out with some girls in my class; I jumped at it. That was stupid. I should have stayed where I was. I would have saved myself a lot of time, money and tears. The landlord was a crook and a creep, my friends and I ended up falling out and it cost me a bomb. Lesson learned.
Third year came around and I was fed up. I had no friends, no social life (at uni, anyway) and even my work started suffering. Good thing was I had a couple of work placements under my belt and already a fair amount of experience in writing. I had been to Fashion Week a couple of times and I was really eager to leave and get my career going. By the time I was finished, I was glad to see the back of the place. The campus, the tutors, the lack of a social life. Sometimes I feel like I only made one true friend from my time at uni, and he was a year older and studied at a completely different campus. Luckily I decided to partake in the uni radio station, which is how I met him, otherwise I’d have graduated with no long term friends. (luckily these days I still talk to the people that stuck around.)
To be totally honest, despite all that happened in the 3 years I was at Northbrook; the tantrums, the meltdowns, the tears, the all-nighters, the drunken antics, the fallouts, the blokes. EVERYTHING made me a better, stronger person. It made me grow up and realise that nothing is handed to you on a plate, you have to work for it. Hard. I learned extremely valuable lessons from uni that I probably wouldn’t have done if I’d just gone straight into work. I moved out, lived on my own and became independent. I had to learn to deal with most of the stress over work and coursework and essays, by myself. I had to manoeuvre around London by myself countless times, lug heavy bags backwards and forwards from uni and home. I was regularly knackered and drained, but I am a tougher person because of it.
So now, I’m saving up, biding my time, waiting for something bigger to come along. I know it won’t happen overnight, and I know how hard I have to work to be able to achieve it. Maybe this piece is the first step. Who knows.
All I know for sure is doing a degree was the only path I needed to take, where I go from here; well that’s up to me. I just hope I can make my mother and grandmother proud.
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