I love sequins, each and every shimmering disc has my undying affection. I have irrational fixation on the shamelessly gaudy; it’s an obsessive love that has claimed squatting rights in my heart and refuses to be evicted.
My love affair with sequins started when I was very little, it was the 80’s and my parents were frequently attending swanky film industry events. Mum had a dazzling collection of evening dresses that locked into my impressionable subconscious. To this day I’m drawn to anything that sparkles and shines like an moth to a flame. I know that I should opt for sensible, reliable and understated clothes that won’t malt a trail of spangles in my wake, but sequins have a vice like grip on my heart; logic or reason does nothing to shake it off.
Rather than grapple with my compulsion to shimmer, I’ve embraced my snazzy tendencies and integrated them into my day to day life. Despite the fact I get some curious glances when I’m in Sainsbury’s, day time spangles do me no harm, if anything they provide me with a sartorial pick me up. My love may be misplaced, but it’s true and everlasting.