Secret Garden

Writing this blog is such a weird thing for me. Putting everything out there is exciting but also pretty scary? I haven't shared it on my social media, even though I know that's what your supposed to do to get a wider readership, because I don't know how I feel about people I see everyday reading everything I post- I tried to keep this from most of my friends, but alas, they found it. Life is stressful at the moment- well, as stressful as most teenage girls' lives get- because of exams next week (not even big ones, just mocks for mocks next year?!), so I've been spending a lot of time revising. Who's idea was it to make young people suffer in this way, and to let their whole futures depend on a few exams? Whoever it was should be forced to relive their entire education and see what it's actually like now. Do adults remember what it's like to be a child? Some do, I suppose, but I often wonder if the people telling us to do "about 3 hours of revision a night" in Year 10 realise that we might have better things to do than learn about surds. Anyway, I had to get that out of my system. On to the frivolities. This is from a few months ago, when I had just dyed my hair red (yes, I am naturally a dark blonde/very light brunette) and was experimenting with colours that would go with it (ALL THE COLOURSSS). I used henna, so it washes out after a while, but I kind of want to have red hair forever now...

Our garden is what some people call "messy" but I prefer the term "eclectic" or "unique". But seriously, it's gorgeous. My jacket is from Chandri Chowk (spelling?), and it's getting older and more faded by the day, as well as the sleeves fraying, but I love it to bits, hopefully not literally. My top is from an obscure french market, and the dress underneath is from a tiny shop in a village, again, in France. My boots are from Fatface and are falling apart because I have worn through the heel completely, and the headscarf is from a vintage shop. Yours Clara

We don't need no piece of paper from the city hall

In true blogger style, thinking that anyone else but me would interested, I want to show you my room. I guess it's my own little museum, or rather exhibition. But! What I really wanted to show you was my pride and joy- my record player. I got it two Christmasses ago, and am fiercely protective of it (NO TOUCHY!). My favourite vinyls at the moment are Joni Mitchell, because she reminds me of a very talented banshee, and the marvel that is Ella Fitzgerald singing Cole Porter. She has a voice that could lure men to their deaths if she felt like it but you kind of get the feeling she wouldn't want to because she's too nice- that kind of voice. I also adore Carole King- I wanted to go and see her live in Hyde Parl London this July, but the tickets are waaaaay out of my price range, so I'll have to content myself with listening to Tapestry on repeat all day every day. I have quite an extensive record collection and have an obsession with dusty charity shops in which I can hunt down the best ones (mwahahaa)(sorry.). Have been listening to Joni a lot recently though, and her lyrics are a masterpiece in themselves (does she count as a golden oldie? Or forever young?) Leave a comment if you liked this, as I have plenty more room (get it? Room?) for more of this ilk. Clara

Zany Zines

Recently I have discovered the magical world of the zine- henceforth I am addicted. I have only made one so far, and it's not especially interesting or exciting, because I don't have that many things I'm willing to cut up- except Vogue. I have a lot of copies of Vogue. So here it is, my first zone, inspires by NYC in the 50/60/70s, with a few jumbled sentences to add interest.

. Blimey. Lots of photos! Please comment if you like this blog, because I'm really enjoying writing it and everything, but I want to know how to make it better, and what people think! Mwah Clara x

Dryad Vibes

Greetings. Today I was a woodland creature/dryad/something out of Midsummer Night's Dream. It was really sunny and warm outside, so I went out and took some pictures with a friend. I took some pics of her, because my portraiture skills can be summed up in the words "pretty face. Pretty place. PRETTY PICTURE???", and usually the answer is no, not pretty picture, but today I got some nice shots. We went to the woods, and everything was coming into bloom and the light was wonderful, and sometimes I wish I didn't live in the middle of nowhere but today I was glad. Eventually, when I'd got lots of pictures, I knew I had to ask her to take some of me, to have a picture for this blog- except I didn't want to say it was for a blog, so I was like "um, so, I really like this dress, and it was my mum's and I think the whole thing is right, because, er, the woods, and this dress and has flowers on it, and yeah so wouldyoumindtakingapictureofmeplease?" and she sort of looked at me and smiled in a confused manner and went "sure? No problem." I am not good at asking people to take pictures of me. Forgive me, all those who have had to suffer me trying to make up excuses for why I want a picture. Thank you for not throwing the camera in my face. So anyway, this dress was my mum's, and I have been coveting it since the age of four. Really, I used to wear it trailing on the ground behind me and pretend I was a woodland queen- oh wait... I AM. Moving on. It is from Monsoon, and I wear it with my boots (that are falling apart) and my handmade wooden crown. So here ya go, photo credits to Sarah, you can be right hand girl on the throne of the forest.

I was, at one point, wearing a military jacket, from a car boot sale, which took me from queen of the woods to Queen the band, but I liked it, so here's another picture.

And so there we are. Tomorrow is school, so uniform it is, but I try to wear a different hair accessory every day, so that'll be fun to choose. Last week I was a #rebel because I had ripped tights which I got by jumping off the lockers too enthusiastically. I expect I should wear intact tights tomorrow, for fear of invoking the wrath of the Deputy Head who is absolutely terrifying. I cannot wait for the sixth form, where I can finally frighten people with my innovative dress sense. If you are one of the elite who has found AND read this blog, I thank you. You are a dear. Yours, Clara x

Vintage a la now

Why hello, I forgot to post my clothes yesterday, which was a shame because I really liked my outfit, so I'm doing a retrospective(harhar)- I suppose it was a sort of vintage vibe, although it was brought up to date with a homemade denim miniskirt. Allow me to show you:

Voila. It is rather confusing for me because as I'm writing this, all that comes in when I put a picture in is a lot of code. I will be very disappointed if that's all that comes out when I post this. So. The jacket is a 1930s boating jacket, found a tiny vintage shop which looks like a black and white film star's wardrobe- although obviously not black and white. Sorry, that was . Sorry. I love the ruffles, and it makes me feel like I am a young lady on a trip to Italy with her elderly chaperone. As I said, I made the skirt, and I basically ripped up a pair of jeans sewed really really fast along the seams and hoped for the best. It looks a bit ragged on close inspection, but it's pretty funky. I took these photos myself in the garden. It was unusually lovely weather, and it looked really warm, but it REALLY wasn't, and I regretted that my clothes didn't come with, like, built in thermals. Design fault much :) So that's my second post done. Phew. Yours, Clara

Meet the new girl

Hi, I'm Clara, I am 14 years old, and I have recently become really interested in blogging, so I decided to start my own place. My style icons are Tavi Gevinson, Frida Kahlo, Audrey Hepburn, and Suzy from Moonrise Kingdom, and I have always been interested not so much in high fashion, but just in clothes,and in the way we express ourselves through the way we dress. I just wanted somewhere to record my thoughts really, so I'm starting this blog to do just that. Like I said, I'm new, and I'm slightly nervous, but I will hope for the best. Yours, Clara.