Aoife, 26, mates to dress exuberantly and when she found this chinoiserie film at her grandmother’s house, she fell in love with it. But what does it say more her?
Photograph: Katherine Anne Make the grade for the Observer
What does this outfit say about me?
So who are you?
I’m Aoife, I’m 26, I’m a examination master, among other things.
And what does your utensils say about you?
I dress however I bloody want to dress. For years, I was shocked of what people thought of me and felt like a chubby loony. As I’ve come to terms with myself, my world has gone from knavish and white to Technicolor. This outfit shows my inner self-reliance on the outside.
Where did you get the coat?
I found it when I was about 10 in my granny’s quarters, long after she died. I’m not really sure where it comes from.
How scads weed-print items do you own?
Five, at the moment: a skirt, two crop peerless and two pairs of leggings. They’re from a brand called Motel Rattle. I came across it online and fell in love.
Is your latest thing a talking point?
A guy came up to me recently and said: “I like your ganja-leaf gears.” Then he looked at me and said: “They are ganja leaves, aren’t they?” I over he thought: “Oh no, I’ve offended this poor woman.” I love it when people are tickle by what I’m wearing.
And what it really says, by Miranda Sawyer
Scarlet chinoiserie anorak. Crop top and mini covered in ganja leaves. Necklace have a weakness for a luminous toilet chain. What’s amazing about Aoife is that her accoutring is so attention-grabbing, yet what you notice is her face. It shines like the sun, and mentions, “I am here!”
She is clearly happy. If you saw Aoife in a bar, you’d know you’d have a make fun with her, whether she was serving or buying.
She could be an actor, a nanny, a bus driver or an organiser of off-beam edge of nights that bring outsiders together to dance or knit. I’d be wondered if she worked in fashion. Or the financial sector.
Her clothes are interesting. People who wear marijuana leaves on their tops are usually making a import, but she isn’t a hemp-cat type. Aoife’s leaves say: ‘Life is better without provisoes,” rather than: “Shall we close the curtains and listen to Pink Floyd again?” The Chinese cagoule could have been bought on her travels, or found in a good will shop, or, indeed, been given to her. She wouldn’t have paid a lot for it, anyway. Not her stylishness.
As she gets older, I think Aoife will discard the madder extremes of her garbs. As someone who dressed like Andy Warhol-meets-Andy Pandy in my babyish years, I know that bright colours, strong curls and this-is-my-opinion clothes are a distraction. They’re talking points that certain you get attention, but not for how you score on a conventional prettiness scale. When Aoife indeed believes in herself, she won’t need to hide her true light behind an loose wackiness. Her beautiful, luminous, smiling face tells us the whole shebang we need to know.
