Why I dress the way I dress

I'm returned from the highlands, readers, fresh and prepared for life again. It's good to be back; I feel energized and ready to take on projects, so watch this space.

I was featured in the inaugural edition of Qoive, an online fashion magazine, earlier in the week, and it's very humbling to appear alongside other significantly bigger bloggers. I was posed the question, 'how do you describe your style?', and it was actually a very interesting exercise in self analysis. From gender to privilege to your taste in films, I think it's really important to dissect how you relate to the world around you, even if it's only to put the pieces back together, the same as before, safely at the end. I gave the article the following quote about how I relate to the clothes I choose to wear -

"I see my clothing choices as being influenced by the eighties, the early twentieth century, modernism, and futurism, depending on what day of the week it is; a limited colour palette does not equal limited options. It reflects a fierceness within me, whether I’m wearing my grandmother’s pearls or a patch-covered jacket I fished out of a pile in Amsterdam, and a complete rejection of looking passably normal. It’s your mother’s style, but put through a meat grinder."

The way a person dresses and interacts with what they put on their body tells you a lot about them. Black is a blank canvas for me to play my influences and ideas across, wherever that takes me, and clothing - inherited, found, created, destroyed - has served as a means both conscious and unconscious to express alienation from normality. Neil Gaiman, in the wake of Terry Pratchett's passing, posted an old article he wrote about the driving anger behind his fellow author's work, and though it would be egotistical to compare myself to its subject it was intensely relatable; the artist Eliza Gauger describes the key to art making as being a 'berserker state' of compulsive need, and it's this fierce energy that makes me get dressed in the morning. Then, of course, post it online.

I want to know; what makes you dress the way you do? What prompts you to curate your appearance? Please, let me know - I'd be very interested to find out. 





Fiona C.

Wish you were here: Sutherland, Scotland

A few select photos from my family's hermitage up in Sutherland, Scotland. Sinking my feet into sheepskin rugs, rural junk shop finds, and the buzzard's nest outside my window are what I'm all about right now.

Hiding out from the whole world is great, and I've been putting the relief of a holiday into good effect - the clear air makes a great feedstock for hatching new plans. What do you think of the new site design, by the way? Two whole days were eaten up doing the sodding coding; no blog design service for me, no sir.

Oh, and I made a new friend. His name is Buddie, and he loves sugar cubes and chin scratches.





An Honest Drug will be briefly running on auto pilot for the next week, so don't expect much in the way of posts or responses until then. You can still find me on Instagram and Twitter, however!





Fiona C.

Style: Cosmic Pioneer

Ah, personal fashion posts. How I've missed thee. As much fun as it is doing shopping picks and talking about gigs, I made this blog to post my own style, and I've not done so in a long time.

I received these Alien Botany leggings by Zoetica to commemorate surviving my teenage years and making twenty, and they've become the intergalactic cosmonaut equivalent of blue jeans - by which I mean they're worn constantly, with everything. I have a few criticisms - they were very late in arriving, and the pattern does not match up properly at the inner leg seam - but ultimately I am extremely happy with these, and always get compliments on them.

Lots of things are in motion right now. I've moved flats, started work on some exciting blogging collaborations (watch this space), made a lot of art, and am considering starting selling some of it online; new ground is being broken every day.

Stay strong and fruitful, followers!



Fiona C.



What have you been up to recently? Do you have any clothing items that are in constant rotation? Let me know below!

White Snapdragons

I was talking to a friend about my favourite flowers a few days ago (alstroemerias, unusual orchids, and sunflowers - I love irises, but not half as much as how Van Gogh paints them), which got me thinking about what favourite flowers are. In true polyamorous fashion, I love all flowers - there's few I wouldn't decorate my house with - but favourite flowers are something you expect the important people in your life to know. It's a weirdly specific and personal preference. 

Black has traditionally been my favourite colour for flora; aside from the goth cred, they look ridiculously luxurious and rich, even if they are inbred. But this week, in the conclusion of an epic saga that has lasted over six months, John Lewis caved and sent my mother a bouquet by way of apology for the faulty sofas they delivered her. Along with over £1,000 of reimbursement, but I still don't understand how she managed to haggle that. 

Along with some stalk (good), lots of baby's breath (better), and plenty greenery (best), there was few stalks of white snapdragon that are a delight to touch; the knobbly, unopened buds feels like peach fuzz. They're pretty too - a perfectly tapered shape, with interestingly formed flowers. 

Plus, how terrifying are these seed pods? I should listen to myself and use white more often. 

What's your favourite flower? Do you like botany as deliriously as me? Let me know below!

Fiona C. 

Asking: Amanda Palmer, Queen's Hall Edinburgh 2015

Hello again! This isn't such standard blog fare for me, but I'm getting better at informing you guys with what's going on in my life. Bear with me.

My course officially finished on friday! At least, for the summer. I went to see Mad Max to celebrate, then headed off to Edinburgh to join the long line of awkward and excited looking teenagers attending Amanda Palmer's gig at the Queen's Hall.

I've been a fan of AFP's for a couple of years now; I've not been the most attentive one, and my love's fluctuated over that period of time (most notably when I put myself off her music by overplaying it during a particularly rough period in my second year of medical school), but it's always been humming away in the background. Reactions when I mention this fondness vary from solidarity to ignorance to an eye roll accompanied by the statement 'of course you do' - thanks, Lewis - but it's never been something people are surprised by, not like if I mention one of my favourite bands is ABBA or that I like knitting.

Dundee Art and Design Degree Show 2015

A quick clearing of the throat to share how I've been spending my time. This friday, I went straight from finding out that I'd passed my exams (huzzah!) to the DJCAD degree show, to see what the art students have been up to for the past four years, and try to avoid spilling free wine on the exhibits.

Warning: images containing nudity below the break. 

Kindling

Rise and shine, readers. An Honest Drug isn't dead yet.

It's startling to think it's been half a year since regular updates; a lot has happened, even since my last post in January - 'tumultuous' is not an unreasonable word, nor is the phase 'varied and utterly hectic'. But exams are over, I've drowned myself in self love, and I'm beginning preparations to start blogging again.

Make no mistake - this is a promise, not a beginning. Apparently it's recommended to publish regularly in order to attract readers? I can only hope that those who did follow me when I did so have stuck around to see what I do now. I got back from a trip to Amsterdam on Sunday, and I'm currently half way through a two week course in British Sign Language (BSL), so I certainly have a lot to share. I still have no working camera, and my blogging muscles are weak from neglect, but An Honest Drug will return again.

See you soon, comrades.



Fiona C.