About a mother and father.

I am a lucky lass. I’m at a fun point in my life, surrounded by not only some amazing people, but some great fashion inspiration.

My parents have always opened their hearts and their wardrobes to me. Ever since I was 16 years old mother and I have been a little more like sisters, sharing shoes, clothes and fashion sense. There are few things that are off limits to me from her racks, to date I think it is just one pair of French Connection boots (and to be honest, I am pretty scared to wear them).

My father on the other hand, has been a slightly different role in my fashion nurturing. Although I am sure if I asked he probably would reluctantly let me knick a nice shirt, his role is more of an encourager. Unlike most mother and father teams, my father is often the one buying the designer clothes, and pushing me (and mum) to do the same. He introduced me to The Sartorialist, he came away from a recent trip to Melbourne with a matt black trench and probably spends more on clothes than mother and I combined.

I love it. I love them. And I love what they wear.

Mother.

Father.