It is easy being a fashionista these days. Flea markets, online blog shops, stores like Cotton On, weekend getaways to Bangkok make it a breeze for any girl to fill up her wardrobe with the latest It items.
The thing that bugs me on grumpy days though, is that suddenly you see this deluge of girls pairing thick eyeliner with shiny stretchy leggings, (please, please, TIGHTS ARE NOT PANTS. Listen to Blair Waldorf.) high-waist zippered skirts with armfuls of studded bangles and gladiator sandals. You can find these girls on Livejournal sites hawking their wares with their hunched-at-the-shoulders, bent-at-the-waist model poses (I’m sure there is a reason why fashion houses only get 6ft tall emaciated models to do such bodily contortions), jostling through the crowds at flea markets and hanging around the next hip place to be and bumping up against you in clubs and poking you with their spiky studded clutches or maybe its just the pointy bits of their limbs and asdkjhafkjbasfkbnasjh I CAN’T BREATHE.
…(Ok deep breaths Kerrie, deep breaths.)
And then something hits you. You get a tiny niggling feeling that something is wrong …thing is, can you actually tell one tiny, be-studded girl from the next? It just can’t be the same girl everywhere, can it? CAN IT?
I don’t know if it’s just me, but it’s getting really hard to tell them apart. Or I could just be hallucinating, but seriously, put them all together in one room and they suddenly look like a whole sea of sameness. I know, I know. It’s not a crime to look similiar. It’s just that, you know. My eyes. Umm..They like variety. Yes.
But happily! For every same-same girl out there, there is someone else who stands out; someone who knows how to throw together clothes that scream “WHEE I AM STYLISH!”…or that could just be my imagination, it could possibly be a more sedate “Yes darlings, I am chic.” Whatever it is, these people are out there. Not in the spooky, X-Files way but in the positive pot-of-gold-at-the-end-of-the-rainbow way.
But first — how do we define style? For me at least, someone with style knows how to put together outfits that flatter her (and him), picks and chooses trends, discerns which are suitable and uses them sparingly and most importantly, is able to express her own unique personality sartorially as eloquently as if it were tattooed verbatim on her forehead.
(Just in case anyone is interested: the main tenet in Kerrie’s Style Handbook is Comfort (the next is colour), and most importantly, that there are actually no rules (except Tights are Not Pants and Not Looking Like Everyone Else.))
To put it succinctly, you wear the clothes, not let them wear you. With style, you can stand out any day from everyone else in the room, which could be handy for snagging a boy or bagging a job among many other vastly useful ends (like getting an extra fishball at your favourite bak chor mee stall. Or sufficiently distracting your boss enough so he won’t realise you just took a 2-hour lunch break. THE POSSIBILITIES, they are endless.) .
So what’s the point of this entire preamble? Well, to explain the existence of our monthly column Tattler Style where we will pluck these boys and girls from the masses and give them the lovin’ they deserve! This is where Tattler will feature people who demonstrate their sartorial sense with aplomb without spending a bomb, to show you that style can still remain at the top of the list for everyone even during these lean times. Hey, we do have our priorities around here. ;)
So do look forward to our very first Style muse here, coming your way really soon! 
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