“Mummy, you have chubby legs” WTF?

So it hurt a little, I’m not going to lie, but my seven year old is pure honesty, made up of sharp jabs, gorgeous words and delicious snuggles, so I took it like a boss and moved on. Well I moved on after I had told him a wee tale of how words hurt and how they should be used to make people feel good, not to bring people down etc etc…lesson over for the day.

But then I may have mulled it over some more and it got me thinking, WTF do you mean my legs are chubby, you little ba*&%^d?  I carried you around for 9 long months on these legs, you were late and cruising in my tummy as I struggled in 31 degree heat. These legs have carried me through thick and thin (literally and figuratively), they’ve walked me toward your dad on our wedding day, before we even thought of you, they’ve led me up mountains, through streams, trudged me around shops and cities, wide eyed with wonder at the sights my eyes were seeing.  They anchored me when I gave birth to you too.  These legs of mine have led me on adventures, slipped out from under me and landed me on my arse.  They’ve let me pogo in moshpits in front of my favourite bands. These legs have held me up when I thought I couldn’t go on and they have sat me down when I need to rest. They get clad in lycra to make sure I move my body, every single day.  Who the f*&k do you think walks the dog everyday?  Hmmmmmm?  (ok, maybe I took this harder than I thought)

Those words are easily brushed aside with adult rationale and he’s just expressing his opinion, he’s allowed it and there will be other lessons to learn together, but I digress.  I’m sharing this little ditty of my life, because I think it’s something the sisterhood, us women,  some of us mothers, some not, seem to have to embrace in life – the barbed words that talk about our bodies.  These words are not always meant to cut, but they do regardless, even from a seven year old.  Why do words talking about our bodies seem to hurt so much? Make us feel less when we should only be grateful for these bodies of ours?  My wish for the sisterhood is to let hurtful body shaming words run off us like water, down the drain and to not let them soak in, don’t let hurtful words sap you of your confidence, own your body and it’s fabulousness.  If you need to do something about it, then do, get outside, get moving and be proud you have a body that lets you do that. Wear things that make you smile, feel fabulous and embraces the confident, kick arse woman you are.

I’ve been walking around on these legs for 42 years and that needs to continue for a while more, so I am going to take these legs and keep trucking on. When my kid said these words, I was in my walking gear and they were encased in lyrca.  Fair play, possibly not the most flattering item in my wardrobe, but they were purpose built to allow me to walk fast, sweat and not chafe.  Job done.

It got me thinking though, how do I style my legs usually?  Well I know what suits me, I know I don’t need to accentuate my upper thigh, but I don’t mind showing them off in my shorts, that hang above my knee.  My latest style love is the maxi skirt, long and flowing and allowing a hint of leg when I want it to be seen, rather than flashing all the goods at once.  Another trick I use, is to elongate my legs with nude heels when wearing pencil skirts or any heel at all to give them a boost when in trousers too. I wear long tops over skinny pants, for proportion and a sleeker silhouette. And when I goddamn feel like it, I wear a short pencil skirt, to the knee and rock some heels.

Most importantly though, I refuse to hide these legs of mine, I am grateful for them, they do their job and they are the only legs I have. I’m stuck with them, so you’ll see them in lycra, in maxi skirts, shorts and even togs – to hell with the critique, these legs of mine are freaking awesome.  Next on my list of things to do is to watch the documentary Embrace and really get down with my bad self.

Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.  So there.

Mmmmmwah, love EJ, the mother of the sisterhood and owner of these legs of mine. xoxo

If you would like to book a styling session, or want to chat about any style related queries, then drop me an email emma@sisterhoodofstyle.com and I’d love to chat. 

Why you need a stylist.

“Did you just say what I think you did?”(yes I did, allow me to explain)…

“What did you say to me you cheeky bitch?”  (Ouch)…

“How dare you suggest I need a stylist.”  (It’d be kinda fun though and it’s not about what’s wrong, but about what could be sooooo right)…

“If my husband brought me a styling package, I would be so offended.” (But would you really?)…

All of those are valid thoughts and feelings, but I wanted to the chance to reply on why you need a stylist…

1. Do you stand in front of your wardrobe and a) yawn b) come over with a headache from the lack of inspiration? c) think you have nothing to wear?  d) all of the above.
2. Do you walk into a store and walk right back out again, not seeing anything that you like, or you feel intimidated by the shop, the shop girls or the sheer amount of clothes to try on.
3. Do you have items in your wardrobe that you haven’t worn, because you don’t know how?
4. Do you feel like you want to show off your fabulous inner self a little more on the external? You have a passion for fashion but it doesn’t love you back? Do you hate clothes and only wear them because it’s illegal not too?
5. Do you want a bit of a change, a shake up from the norm?
6. Are you returning to work after a baby?
7. Are you trying to get back into your wardrobe after an eighteenth month absence from having a baby, then a toddler and only wearing active wear?
8. Would you love to have an impartial style sister by your side when shopping and in your wardrobe, giving you a completely refreshed style?

If you answered yes to any of these and you may have other reasons too,then a styling session could be just what you need and want.

My passion for the Sisterhood of Style is to boost women’s confidence and raise women up and help them to feel fabulous in themselves and how they present themselves to the world.  It’s not about pointing out the negative, but totally and utterly enhancing the positive.  It’s about challenging you to see yourself in clothes you have never thought to try and to build up a fabulous capsule wardrobe, so that you have go to pieces for when you have the dreaded “I have nothing to wear” moments.

Rather than being offended that someone buys you a styling voucher, why not ask for it for Christmas and jump to the front of the queue.  One of my repeat clients has recently asked her hubby to get in touch with me to buy a voucher for her :-).

You can read about what a wardrobe detox is like right here and you can find everything you need to know about a personal shopping session here.

Sisterhood is the number one reason I started this biz, style is just a really lovely complementary companion.

So my dear sisterhood, I hope you see that booking a session with me as your stylist is all about you and feeling fabulous, providing a boost to what you already have inside. If you need more evidence, just read my client’s testimonials.

Email me at emma@sisterhoodofstyle.com to book a session or grab a voucher for Christmas. xxxxx

Mmmwah, love EJ, Mother of the Sisterhood xo 

 

I have nothing to wear #IHNTW

Sigh.  Who hasn’t said this to themselves, their friends, their partner before.  I-have-nothing-to-wear or IHNTW for short.  Five short words that can turn a good day bad, excitement for an event into dread and a feeling of defeat that can be paralysing.

Before you think I am overstating the case, try to recall when this statement applied to you and cast your mind back to how that felt.  Paralysing much?

You may think, as a stylist, that I don’t feel this fear, this sense of WTF do I pull out of this thing called my wardrobe.  Well I do and it sucks.

I have plenty of clothes, not on the ridiculous level, and I feel a sense of pride in turning older outfits, new, by styling things differently or with a twist and then seeing the results in a new way.  So while the feeling is rare that IHNTW, I still feel it.  It’s tough and it usually precedes an event or a work day, when I really need to get my hustle on.

So let me tell you how I tackled my recent IHNTW dilemma.  It all starts one Saturday, that followed a Friday night. I’d stayed in with my kids, but my hubby had been out celebrating his work Christmas Party.  Then came Saturday morning and a busy day with our kids, swimming lessons, play dates and a family 1st birthday party.  I had no problems getting dressed for these moments, I felt confident, sorted and stoked with my choices.  The husband had earlier suggested we go out for a date night later on. It was much-needed. But I was dragging my heels.  First I couldn’t decide what I really wanted to do.  Do you ever find that sisters who have kids? Date night feels like a big huge deal, they happen so rarely that you want to fit in every dream date your could ever imagine into one small, shitty Saturday night.

Suddenly it was flotation tanks and champagne, dinner at the noodle markets, high end hotel stay, simple street food collective and trying all sorts, champagne bar, a walk down Franklin Road for the Christmas Lights, it was to be all things to all attention starved, busy AF 40 year olds.  But then it wasn’t. It couldn’t be.  There were two people and one night, and a 16 year old babysitter who had to be Uber’ed home (it’s a thing now apparently) by 11.30pm.

Phew, suddenly the pressure of IHNTW was compounded by I don’t want to go out and I don’t know what I want to do anyway and I’m fucked off at you and I don’t know why.

So there was that.  Anyhoo, I wildly digress.  Obviously –  I wasn’t a total dick – we confirm we are to go out for date night .  (We choose street food, cocktails and Christmas lights if you were wondering).  But that’s where the pain in the butt starts.  The IHNTW nightmare.

Half and hour before the babysitter arrives, such is my despondency with my sartorial choices, I attempt to decide.  First up, an all black outfit, that hides my skin and hides me.  I aim for sleek and come out looking EMO and hidden.  Next up are jeans and a baggy silky top, aiming for casual chic.  I end up looking much older than I want, washed out and bored.  I’m stumped.

I go put my makeup on and do my hair and in T minus 15 minutes until the sitter comes, I am back in the bedroom making panic choices.

FFS, why does this happen, why do we lovely, gorgeous women make ourselves feel like crap and claim IHNTW? My theory is that despite rationally knowing that we have plenty to wear, our mood and our self talk can be a debilitating dampener to our usual choices.

Suddenly, and I can say this on reflection, my dreary thoughts on not really knowing what I wanted from date night, translated into not helping me decide what to wear.  I was in a quagmire of doubt over the night and it bled into my fashion choices.  I basically turned catatonic for ideas.  I tried snapping myself out of it and it only made the decisions harder. I had a top on that I liked, but bottoms I wanted nothing to do with.

But then I had a brain wave and asked myself what I felt great in, what I felt comfortable in and hoped the two were there same thing.  They were.

So I kept on the top that I liked and added a skirt, instead of the pants – wide legged and jeans – that I had been trying on.  The skirt had the added benefit of being a little see-through, so I felt a little shinier and sexier, which is probably much-needed for a date night don’t you agree? I grabbed an old favourite – the denim jacket and popped that on for fun.  It worked, I mean I wasnt LOLing all over the shop, but it worked.  So suddenly the outfit emerged, comfortable, a little bit of sexy and a whole lot of “I feel great”.

So what is this blog all about, other than me moaning that I had nothing to wear? It’s about turning that shite around in your head and saying “yeah I do”.  I was in a shitty mood and that translated into telling myself that IHNTW. Just like negative self talk can bleed into our lives in other insidious ways,  the day it hit my wardrobe, I decided to fight back.  Funny that.

So here’s my thoughts on what you could do to break through the block of IHNTW.

1. Tell yourself YES I DO, you crazy, sexy, cool, fabulous mother trucker.
2. Try all the things on until, if it feels crappy, take it off (crazy idea) until the right outfit makes you hum. I would suggest going for an old favourite, like a denim jacket or a dress that makes you feel fine.
3. If going out for an occasion, try on the things that make you happiest, even if you’re worried that you’ve worn them before – who gives a crap!  Unless you’re a celebrity whose going to be photographed and the evidence ends up in Grazia.
4. When in doubt use accessories to make the most of any outfit.
5. Take a pic of a great outfit, that you love, knowing it may come in handy when the IHNTW’s happen.
6. Wear lipstick, always.

Do you ever tell yourself IHNTW?  Tell me about it sisters….

mmmmmwah, love EJ, the mother of the sisterhood.  xo

Remember, if you really are wanting more confidence in your style choices, why not book a session with me to do a wardrobe detox or personal shopping session.  Email me at emma@sisterhoodofstyle.com for bookings. 

How to be stylish – from your bed. A story about whatever gets your through.

How to rock a hospital mumu & handle curve balls.

Sisters, don’t be alarmed at the mumu, it’s totally appropriate and in fact, the only thing I want to and can be wearing right now, because this mother of the sisterhood had a bit of a curve ball thrown at me this week.

I went into battle with a rogue ovarian cyst, that had decided to grow some mutant qualities and wanted to take down a fallopian tube and my right ovary while it was at it.  I have pictures, but I don’t want to put you off your brekkie.

So this is me this morning, in all my glory, hospital mumu and DVT stockings,  to keep those blood clots at bay. It got me thinking how curve balls can have the propensity to steer us so off course and we can often find it hard to get back onboard.  The reliance on others is suddenly intensive and extreme, you are thrust into the care of others and cannot control your own pain or the next steps and that is scary. So I am doing my damnedest to not let it cut me down, but instead, fill me up with gratitude and a story to tell. There’s always a great story to tell.

When my husband took me to the emergency room I recalled vaguely how I had never been to an ED before.  I have only been in hospital once as a teenager to have a nearly erupting appendix out and then twice to have my babies.  But never emergency, never in a wheelchair, crippled in pain.  So this was a new one. I even did a TV-like shout out “please, someone help me, something is wrong”.  YES, that was me, on Wednesday afternoon at 4.45pm.

The nurses and Dr’s were great, telling me to breathe through it and hold their hand and then they tripled the morphine and realised that wasn’t even touching the sides.  So surgery was suddenly on the cards.  Never-mind, that I knew about the cyst already, just not that it was also taking an ovary or fallopian tube with it.  I was due to have it out next week, in a private hospital and not be dragged into emergencey surgery.  I was scared and a bit daunted and shocked that I had left work at 2.30 to collect my kids and was crippled in pain by 3pm and in hospital soon after.

But you see that’s when I just had to let go and for those that know me, they know that that’s hard.  I organise for a living and I was even bossing my husband  around about what I needed him to do, after surgery, no memory of it, but also able to sing “I like big butts and I cannot lie”. 

Suddenly it was all out of my hands and friends stepped in to grab the kids, then my dad took over looking after them that night.  My husband paced the halls of the hospital, waiting for news of me, the cyst and it’s darstedly deeds (that’s a book title if I ever heard one).  Then friends and family started to hear the news and sent texts, made calls and offers of help and food for my gaggle of boys.  They came to visit with flowers, even when I was too woozy to get my head off the pillow.  Flowers and good cheer followed.  Work rallied like the champions they are and am grateful for their amazingness.   While I had to cancel a planning day for Sisterhood of Style today, with an epic business mentor and I won’t be able to speak at a women’s group event on Sunday about style,I know that I will have the opportunities again, I just need to spend the time now recuperating.

When I got my wits back very early this morning, after a second night in hospital, I felt compelled to write this down. This feeling of gratefulness and gratitude.  Life may have thrown me a big fat curve-ball but I’m determined to catch it on the full and run (well maybe walk right now) with it and just be at one with the sucker.

So thanks rogue cyst, you kinda did me a favour, because I see my cup is full of awesome.  I’m gonna rock this mumu and white DVT stockings while I still can, because normal life will resume soon enough and sometimes, a mumu is all a girl needs.

Thanks for letting me share sisterhood.

Love EJ, the mother of the sisterhood. xx

The school mum catwalk in the age of the “super-mum”.

It’s a thing, I know it is, the school mum catwalk.  Well, it’s not really a thing but it is maybe kind of, a minor thing. Sort of, maybe a little bit. I dunno, but I get the feeling it is. Hear me out.

Mamma’s, put your hand up if you feel that pressure, that need to conform, out perform, do better, do more, say more, act smarter, be more, as a mamma at the school gate, on the sports ground, in the mall, at the cafe, at work, on your Instagram and Facebook feeds?  If you haven’t got your hand up, then big props to you, I love that you own your confidence and don’t bend to pressure.  But sometimes mammas, it’s hard right?

But I get that there is a need to please in mammas and we aren’t always kind to ourselves and sometimes, just a little bit, not kind to others. This blog started out being about what to wear on the school drop off.  It was a tongue in cheek look at the working mum and the SAHM (that’s stay at home mum) catwalk that presents itself every morning at my school. There isn’t really one, but it’s amusing to think there could be.  I’ve even had a few remarks on my strut into the school.  I swear I don’t strut, but there’s something about wearing heels that makes me “stride”, for sure. But I’m digressing.  I wanted to share my thoughts on why the motherhood sisterhood need to keep being awesome and working together, because the tribe of mothers I know are freaking awesome and beautiful and helpful and always ready to lend a hand.  Working/non working, it don’t matter.  There is no competition.  Except, I think maybe there is.

There is a competition within us and we only feel validated by hearing that others are in the same boat.  For me, well I constantly press like and share on the “scary mommy” posts I follow on Facebook.  I love Constance Hall and I dig a Kiwi writer call Emily Writes, because they all speak from the heart and talk of the ridiculousness and hardship and joy of motherhood.  I like that.  I like feel a part of a bigger community, that we are all in the trenches together and it sucks sometimes, it’s joyful more than sometimes and we’re in it for the long-haul.

It’s like when you have your first baby and you realise that you’ve just joined the biggest club in the world and the entry fee was a baby.  My world just opened up and aaaaaaalllll the mothering-ness came at me like a spider monkey.  My best friend and I laughingly started a cake competition on ourselves, without really knowing it, trying to out do our own cakes (not each others), year on year.  We lovingly supported each other at every party, with a “what a great cake” shout out as the candles got spat on, knowing we had been up until midnight the night before, icing and decorating that sucker, now that’s #solidarity.

But it’s like that with style and why I started Sisterhood.  I wanted to make other women feel as good about their own confidence in style as I did about the motherhood sisterhood that wrapped itself around me after the birth of the kids and when we joined the school community.

What I’m trying to say is, while there maybe a small faction of women that play in the muddy sandpit of spite, the sisterhood I am privileged to know, are freaking awesome women who lend a hand when needed and when it’s not asked for, get shit done and are completely awesome, they also rock a mean style game.  Whether that be in trainers and active wear or a kick arse power dress. Boom, mothers rock.

Have you got an awesome sisterhood of the motherhood story to share?  I’d love to hear it.

Mmmmwah, EJ, Mother Superior to the Sisterhood of Style xoxo

 

 

 

What to wear on your first day of work

I’m starting a new job on Monday.  I’ll be the new kid on the block, at 42, that’s no mean feat.  I’ll be making friendly chit-chat and skulk out on my own at lunchtime.  I’ll have to ask where the loo is, how to make the coffee, what the kitchen etiquette is and how soon can I bring in my dog.  Yes sisters, you heard it here first, it’s a dog friendly workplace. Winning.

But I know that all of that will be a whisper in the wind by the end of the week, once I’ve worked with these awesome new people for a few days and I get the hang of the place.

What I am becoming super preoccupied with though, is what the hell do I wear?  It’s not a corporate, but I’ll be working with corporate clients, it’s not a big company, but I’ll be working with big companies.  It’s not shorts and jandles and it’s not suit and tie.  It’s the…..dum duh num dum……the inbetween.  Aggggggh (think 1950’s screen siren scream here).

Is anyone else like me and on their first day of school, a new job or a wedding and you absolutely have to purchase a new outfit?  Or is that just me?  Well, it is me, I have to own that.

So, I have a pair of Zara nautical styled (more on that style theme in another blog post soon) trousers I purchased in Sydney recently, that I haven’t worn.  I am having them taken up right now, cause I’d look like Groucho Marx if I didn’t.  But that’s as far as I’ve got.  Bugger.

I don’t want to go full nautical, corporate or too casual.  I am in a quandary.  My old clothes from corporate-ville are maybe a little too tired, but I only need a top,  now I have bottom half sorted.  So it’s a top, oh and some shoes.  I got my nails done last week by Pop Nails and they are fab-u-lous.  So that leaves me needing just a top and shoes, maybe some earrings.  Oh shit. Ok, breathe.

So, work with me sisters,  maybe I suck it up, wear a top I already have and then add some cool shoes.  Wanna know the shoes I’m trying to decide between?  You do? Ok, check these puppies out from Gorman and then these gorgeous ones from Kathryn Wilson.  Swoon much? But I can’t have both.  I have also been coveting these ones from Augustine, but they frustratingly sold out over the weekend.  I need to up my game, as I keep spying things I love and missing out by waiting too long.  Anyhoo, I digress.

What’s really exciting about starting a new job at this particular place and in an advertising and marketing environment means I can wear a T-shirt to work and it not be a major faux pas.  Call me crazy, but that is just beyond amazing.  I’m not talking simple T-Shirt and no bling.  I’m talking blinging that sucker out with a necklace and jacket and some mules and some other stuff and things, but just the mere thought of wearing the T-Shirt, with adornment, has got me all hot under the collar.  It probably means I should make more of an effort to find that elusive perfect white T  that I’ve been hunting for then shouldn’t I.

So wish me luck sisters, the ideas could all change tomorrow, but I reckon I am pretty darn excited for what I have in store for me in this new role.  I can’t wait to learn new stuff, meet new people and get some serious shit done.  I am chomping at the bit.  It’ll make for some exciting satorial adventures again too.

If you want to see the whole look come together, make sure you follow me on instagram @sisterhoodofstylenz and check out my Monday morning post.

And sisters, remember, if you need help styling YOUR first day of work at a new job, contact me today to book a styling session,  I would love to work wtih you.  Email me at emma@sisterhoodofstyle.com today.

Mmmmmwah, love EJ, the mother of the sisterhood of style xo

What to wear when you have nothing to wear.

It’s all okay, it’s all okay.  I breathe deeply.  I have”NOTHING TO WEAR” I scream at the sky.  Well I don’t really, cause I’m inside and there’s just my ceiling – which probably needs a paint job.  So, I am not screaming at the sky, but politely saying to myself, I have “nothing” to wear.

By now, you know I am telling a great giant porky don’t you.  It’s not that I have nothing, cause evidently, I have bloody plenty, I know this cause my wardrobe is bursting at the seams (yes even after one of my fabulous wardrobe edits :-).  But let’s just say for arguments sake that I have nothing to wear in the sense, I can’t make up my mind, I have my period, I am facing into peri-menopause, I can’t bloody decide or I am just having a bad, contrary kinda day.

Helpfully, my nine year old just told me that we could put on a singlet and some ripped jeans, and despite me wanting to tell him to get real, he’s not far wrong now is he.

Because we all have stuff to wear sisters, this is a major first world problem to complain about, I know.  But sometimes, having nothing to wear can feel like an unscalable, insurmountable, big F-off swirl of rage.

So to help my sisters out, I’ve shared some of my favourite go to pieces when I have days that scream I have “nothing to wear”.  You don’t have to use this formula exactly, but on days like this,  your first thought may be to sacrifice style for comfort. I am advocating for both  and try hard to never let style be far away.   I reckon the pieces that I turn = too on days like these are actually a great mix of both.

1. A baggy pair of “joggers”- leather look or merino are very in this winter and are a perfect go to item to reach for. (see photo)
2. A coloured or patterned top that you feel great in.(see photo)
3. A long layer merino cardigan (Tip = try a  waterfall cardigan, they can be a lot more forgiving that a straight hemmed cardy, which can make you look like a box)
4. White trainers – any.  Just do it, can’t go wrong.
5. If not white trainers, try using a leopard print shoe as a neutral go to shoe.
6. Bad hair day? Try this season’s easiest hairstyle helper – a fedora.  If you aren’t game to wear a proper hat, put your hair up in a high pony and stick a cap on it.

To cap this look off, wear a bright lippy, go on, you know you want too,  try it tomorrow and see how you feel, pretty sure lippy will make your feel a million bucks and will compliment and “upsize” any average “nothing to wear” day outfit.

PS – likely you can’t rock all of this for a day in the office, but pair the trousers and joggers with a smart black jacket and cute boots or flats and you have yourself a winner winner, chicken dinner.

PPS – I am full of a cold as I press publish, but I still have to do life today and pick up the kidletts from school later on, so I know I will be hitting the wardrobe for this look that I styled earlier in the week, via selfie stick – they still suck, but they are necessary!

mmmmmmmwah,

EJ x