Somehow I never grew out of my aversion to animal print. My 20s and 30s were likewise animal-print free, with the exception of some very cute and slightly furry Guess leaopard-print jeans, which I wore with a plain dark blazer and heels. The fact they were Guess, and that they were jeans, made them somehow different from the cheap semi-see-through animal print t-shirt that had caused such horrors in my mind. Frankly, if they still fitted, I would still wear those jeans. I think I still have them somewhere.
So I was intrigued the other day to receive a Facebook posting from a friend discussing how she didn’t wear animal-print. And I suddenly realised that I did.
Now I am in my mid-40s and animal print starts to be a viable option. I fear I may be turning into Jackie Collins only without the publishing contract and the house in Hollywood Hills.
Perhaps it is because I can afford better quality animal-print. Perhaps it is because animal-print now comes in structured clothing like tailored blazers and coats (Perri Cutten). Perhaps I have more confidence, or have moved into a different (read: older) “fashion” category.
But somehow, animal print is increasingly a part of my wardrobe, and even my work attire. Perhaps animal print is an inevitable part of life, like, um, well I don’t know. Death and taxes? Wrinkles and grey hair?
Who could have imagined?