30/01/2013

(Not So) Effortless Style: Airport Chic



As you may or may not have read in my latest post, I went to Milan this weekend. Since I have family in Stockholm and my fiancé has family in Milan, we are almost constantly travelling to visit someone (fun, sometimes. Stressful, sometimes. A prime example of me being a disaster? Always). And travelling, no matter how passionately I may love it with all my international little heart, brings out the very worst in me, style-wise.


I dream of being that composed, chic girl voyaging in wedge-heeled boots and a structured coat, with just a tiny little wheelie suitcase and the new VOGUE as her travel companions. The girl who has a Smythson passport case (although mine would somehow be faux leather) instead of crumpling all her valuable travel documents in a yellow plastic Forex bag. The girl who shoots the security staff a barely-there smile as she struts it right past the security check (obviously she NEVER beeps and is never asked to stuff her carry-on down the hideous Ryanair luggage-measuring basket from hell).  The classy, got-it-together grown-up.

Instead, I am me. Me means squatting on the floor digging for my boarding card in my H&M bag. Me means asking the woman at the gate if she's seen my earring that I just lost here somewhere and no, it's not precious, it was £5 from Accessorize, but it has emotional value. Me means being caught with a water bottle in my carry-on and having to pay a small country's gross national product in luggage overweight. Me means taking my shoes off at the security check to reveal different-colour socks. In short, "me" is an airport mess.

To be fair, I never lose anything except earrings and I've never missed a plane in my life (well...there was this one time. But with all the vodka I'd had, I believe I was better off staying on the ground anyway) and have never been afraid of flying (unlike some people I'm engaged to). Plus, I adore airports. They have that sense of adventure, that feeling that something's actually happening, that you're actually living as opposed to slowly melting away from boredom in a post-office queue, a tube seat or a doctor's waiting room. Airports are vibrant, alive. There's promise. There's excitement. There's...that sleazy Starbucks waiter who will totally flirt with you in front of your boyfriend (no, I will not tell you which airport this charming gentlemen can be found at). So maybe I'm not a total ball of hopelessness then, if at least Sleazeball finds me attractive. But somehow, the little sense of style I do possess leaves the building as soon as it's clear that it's an airport building.

In a future life, I'd love to fly with style like these ladies:


Victoria Beckham



Alexa Chung



Miranda Kerr



Diane Kruger



Jessica Alba



Amanda Seyfried



...and of course Rosie Huntington-Whiteley, top photo. But she is the stuff that dreams are made of, and mere mortals like me have better get used to our hand sanitizers opening in our bags causing our wallet, lipstick and snacks to smell of washing-up liquid. But then again, that's travelling and it's wonderful.

pictures from Pinterest and WhoWhatWear

2 comments:

  1. I totally get you!! And I love your writing style in this post, such a pleasure to read. Hope you had a nice weekend in Milan, it must have been amazing seeing your "old" friends.

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  2. You are me! I totally saw myself reading your post and it gave me a good giggle. I too long to waft through the airport, instead I land 'miranda' stylee after tripping over my suitcase which has suddenly developed a sticky wheel. I also long to be the woman who can layer her clothing - instead I just resemble a nutter who looks like she's wearing the entire contents of her wardrobe :0

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