Life is cyclical.

I say this because things we did when we were younger we end up doing when we are older.  There are the obvious ones that people talk about and make jokes about.  Like that we started out eating mush and pooping ourselves and it pretty much ends the same way.  But that isn't what I am really talking about.  I mean things that circle through much more rapidly.  I am talking about things like clothes.

I have noticed that when I was younger I had much better taste in clothes than my parents.  There is a video that my Dad took of me when I was three where I was wearing a singlet and underpants and then, halfway through, my Dad thought "Gee, I should put some clothes on Sam. Having her half naked with hair like a hobo doesn't make me look like a very good Dad".  The next shot you see of me is with fluoro yellow trackpants with a black stripe up the side and a huge horrible floral print jumper.  He also forgot to brush my hair.  My Dad was an awesome Dad (and still is) but I was glad there came a time I could pick what I wanted to wear.

In case you can't tell from my crazy hat, I am the one on the left...

I then went through a stage where I wanted to do things my way.  I got my hair cut and picked out all my clothes.  Now, I understand my parents wanted to let me do my own thing and discover who I am.  HOWEVER, letting a nine year old get herself a boys haircut and wear blue Hawaiian shirts over a tank top with three quarter jeans is something they should have had an intervention for.  I still have the school photos of my hair in this cut, but I refuse to let anyone see them and my Mum wouldn't let me chuck them or burn them because she said she paid so much for them.  I choose to believe it is so she will have something to blackmail me with.

I then had my early teen years.  Even now I look back on what I wore and think 'If I did it then, why the hell can't I dress myself well now?'. I think this was mainly due to the fact that I started stealing my mothers clothes.  She had awesome expensive platform shoes. Mine.  Oh, that is a lovely halter neck top, is it from an expensive boutique? Mine.  Those jeans you love and treasure? The ones that fit you perfectly and you love more than anything else? Mine. And they are also destroyed because I wore them to my first drinking party and they got ripped as I tried to get out of a shopping trolley. So, what else do you have?

Looking pretty sophisticated before my next relapse...

Then I had my later teenage years.  These, I think, were the worst.  I went through a grunge stage where I wore lots of black, big scary looking boots and got a tattoo.  In this cliche the only thing I didn't do was run away and join a bikey gang.  I even had the poor taste to wear a bikini instead of a bra.  Someone should have stepped in.  The last day of my horrible look was when I was 19.  I was working in a government laboratory in Toowoomba and, every Friday, I would wear the most outrageous combination of clothes I could think of.  This particular Friday I wore knee high striped socks, steal cap boots, a black frilly skirt, black button up shirt and a pink and multicoloured beanie that had ear flaps with plaits.  I was particularly proud of the monstrosity I had created.  That was until they sent me downtown to pick up some things from an office supplies store.  That's when it ended.  I don't know if that is how they intended it to go, but they did me a huge favour.

The beanie in question.

And now, finally, I am getting a respectable wardrobe together.  Things are looking good for my fashion sense at the moment.  But the bitter sweet thing is, it's only a matter of time before I circle through again...

This is the awesome dress sense now... PLEASE DON'T TAKE IT FROM ME!!!!