The Waning of Taste

I’m starting to worry slightly about the effect Spanish life is having on my sense of style. Gone are the Parisian days, when leaving the house in high tops, a lycra jumpsuit and a string vest would be done without a second thought; lazy days wandering the streets in a granddad cardigan and leggings, thrown on without a care, are now but pipe dreams.

The carefully packed compact wardrobe, designed to fit into the strict Ryanair limits and pander to the varied climate whilst allowing for sartorial flexibility has proved fruitless. The cobbled streets and thirty degree incline on which we reside rule heels out entirely; the strong catholic influence in Santiago making the slightest show of flesh an abhoration.

Our first weeks here were flooded with sunshine. Galicia, normally famed for its rainy climes, was the hottest region in the country, yet despite temperatures brushing thirty in February, it was as if the Spaniards refused to bend from the norms of winter attire and went about their business clad in coats and scarves. Imagine, then, the scandal as we dared to leave the house in shorts. I am yet to decide if it is due to cultural differences or simple curiosity that provokes impossibly blatant stares from every passer by. Perhaps this is just the Spanish way, but even so it is for this I feel my fashion sense ebbing away…

It came to me as a sudden realisation on a shopping trip to A Coruna. I was browsing the racks and had picked up a myriad of items to try on, when I looked down and realised instead of the denim jumpsuits and coral dresses I had been lusting after, my arms were full of high-necked, full sleeved, beige non-items. I had subconsciously fallen into conformity.

This was quickly resolved by the purchase of some dropped-crotch, tie waisted trousers and a pair of high-waisted floral dungarees, but although I was in time to stop myself that time, I am unable to stop fretting that the constant staring is whittling away at my individuality. I am certain I shall return to Britain’s fair shores with my appetite for originality sated and find myself, in true Spanish style, open mouthed and unable to take my eyes off the incomprehensible wardrobe choices of the population.