Before child, trainers were for exercise. Worn exclusively at the gym. This was largely due to their incompatibility with the rest of my outfits, a uniform of tea dresses and black opaque tights. I did own one pair of jeans, worn on the occasional lazy Sunday, paired with an ankle boot or leopard print pump.
The thing that has surprised me most about Motherhood is how different I look. Sure, my body has changed and my under eyes have taken a hit. But it’s a wider change, a difference in style. An entirely new aesthetic.
Things that are not compatible with child rearing: handbags, heels, dresses that sit above the knee. Parenting involves an awful lot of bending over. Am constantly picking things and people up off the floor. Attempting this manoeuvre in a short frock, well, a dignity free zone.
In a similar vein, carrying a handbag and pushing a buggy feels faintly ridiculous. Ditto heels. Parenting also involves a surprising amount of running: one must be ready to burst into a sprint at a moment’s notice.
So trainers. Well comfy. A welcome addition to the wardrobe. Jeans are alright. Not the most flattering on my pear shape situation but an obvious and practical choice. But the bags. Carrying an ugly nappy bag felt like a step too far. But it happened.
First time around, could not find one I liked. Am not a ditzy floral or cupcake kind of gal. The luxe option was a tan leather tote that didn’t speak to me either. So got an ugly one because it was on sale and felt the fury towards it every day.
Since then, the nappy bag game has changed. There are options, new independent brands producing luxury changing bags at a range of price points. Found one I positively loved and lusted after it for a time.
And now I own it. I did a splurge. The TIBA + MARL x Selfridges Elwood Backpack, £130. One fancy nappy bag masquerading as an edgy backpack. Urban on the outside, baby on the inside. Fury replaced by joy.
Til next time,