Featured Friday: Georgina Evans

Friday, 8 March 2013
My beautiful, creative, talented and hilarious friend Georgina sent me something to read over last week and I couldn't not feature it here. In this piece she talks about designer pieces and virginity, at least one of the things I hold sacred in my life. So read it, love it, show her the love she deserves for her words and brace yourself.

Who knew that in the pits of my ironically shallow hole there was a designer shaped hole?

This, a statement from my 16 year old self, the start of a sordid love affair that would ultimately lead to the demise of my student loan, purchase of this iconic magazine, and in turn the blind faith in my writing skills acquired through 7 years of torturous compulsory education, which without I may never have secured my first job in retail, or received my first wages.

Clutching my first pay check, I felt a huge swell of pride in my somewhat undeveloped chest. This was to some degree rather dented after I saw the tax, but never the less I felt a moral obligation to my right as an aspiring “god knows what” to do something momentous with this money. Guilt free money was something id never encountered before. It was thrillingly sophisticated and terrifying in equal measure. An experience id only ever indulged browsing through the Marc Jacobs fall collection, scrolling through pages of magnificent designs and accessories that made my eyes salivate. These were familiar waters, familiar patterns of an over indulged mind, but now? Now this little brown envelope, savagely escalated everything. My heart started to resemble a humming bird cracked up on caffeine. I promptly realised that there were rapid tides of uncharted waters in my familiar sea’s and as the realisation came crashing down; I could afford something from this website.

The entire purchasing experience from there on, could only be likened to one previous experience. Losing my virginity; sweaty, uncoordinated and over in the blink of a watered eye. I was conscious that both these moments were a huge moment for me as a woman. Ironically enough, I felt that this purchase made me more of a woman than an ungraceful fumble between my groovy chic bed sheets. On both occasions I was left feeling slightly flushed and emotionally drained. Not nessacairly over joyed, nor disappointed, just over come with unfamiliar emotions that I was unable to articulate. Although my purchase from Marc Jabocs was small and almost certainly insignificant to the expanding world of fashion, to me it meant so much more. It wasn’t a shallow token of lust, it was a symbol, and extension of me. This feeling was only confirmed 4 working days later, as another inconspicuous enveloped package dropped onto my door mat. It was like my pay checks metaphorical ghost, or maybe that was just a dramatization, it all felt very dramatic either way. It was this very purchase that set in motion the idea of, what ever I was meant to do in this world, it had to contain the finer things in life. That idea aside, I began to tenderly unwrap my package with the same fumbled fingers that unzipped my tammy jeans only months before. Virginity be damned, this experience was better than any juvenile blunder. Waves of excitement crashed through my body, I was so aware that this experience of my first designer purchase could never be replicated. That exact moment in time I knew I would never feel like this again. So I savoured it. I spent what seemed like hours unwrapping this trinket, when in fact, my mum recalls it differently. Apparently the words frenzy sprang to mind an awful lot. The entire process from start to finish was a tsunami of emotions, each wave more menacingly perfect than the last, but nowhere near as anticipated as the next. It would be accurate to say that I was left feeling more satisfied and fulfilled with my Marc Jacobs purchase than I ever was with my much anticipated “first time”. In short, I think I’ve just motioned, that instead of condoms being thrown at young adults (god forbid you refer to that age group as children) maybe we should considering throwing designer trinkets at them instead, with the promise of greater satisfaction and lower chances of STI’s or pregnancy.

I am pleased to reassure those who are still reading this, that like my sex life, my purchasing of all things designer has improved vastly, to the extent of both being an enjoyable feeling (the majority of the time). I no longer rush, nor do I panic buy and I certainly don’t settle for average. These are aspects that I have applied to almost all areas of my student life, inside and out of the bedroom.

For those who wonder what this designer purchase was that lead to this magazine. This life style that I aspire to, it was a key ring, that has remained more faithful to me than any man ever has.

It was a designer key ring that filled my designer shaped hole (in the pits of my ironically shallow hole).

2 comments:

  1. brilliant analogy. just, brilliant.

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  2. This is absolutely brilliant! My dad would probably massively agree with 'frenzy' as well as it was him that had the task of (quite literally) guiding me by the shoulders through the handbag nirvana that was Saks Fifth Avenue on the way to my first designer purchase... I thought I was calm... apparently I garbled non-sensically and squealed at every bag we passed! Dear lord...

    Sophs xx

    The Sopho Diaries

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