To this...
In just a few easy steps...
Before coming to England I received loads of advice from other people: "You'll love it!", "They drink tea!", "Digestives are the greatest food ever created!", "They call fries, chips!", "The dollar is worth nothing and you'll be so destitute that selling yourself may become a serious prospect!!!"
But there was one thing that everyone left out....
As I arrived on campus that first day, nearly delirious from a 4 hour layover in Amsterdam at 3 in the morning, looking and smelling like I had spent the night doing lines in back of a greyhound bus I couldn't help but notice... Every girl I saw had the perfect pair of slouchy brown boots that I had been coveting all fall, every limb bedecked in skinny jeans or the requisite leggings, topped off with enviable winterized dresses, tailored coats, and effortless scarves.
I, on the other hand, was wearing a pair of Lulu Lemon, reversible yoga pants, with a pair of black pumas and a now "off" white t-shirt, complemented by my pilled black Northface fleece that had certainly seen better days. Granted I had just gotten off of a ten hour flight and no one was expecting me to be a fashion plate... but clearly I had a lot to learn.
Before I left someone had mentioned to me that British students tend to take class a little more seriously, they dress up more - none of this rolling out of bed throw on the juicy velour and school hoodie business. So at the urging of my Mother I had picked up two Banana Republic oxfords and a ill fitting pair of Marc Jacobs khakis at Saks "Off" 5th Avenue. But no one had prepared me for a place where everyone seemed to up to the second fashion wise, where sneakers were called trainers and graced only the feet of those in the act of working out or a few "alternative", "indie" types who threw them on to complete their obviously well thought out " I don't give a shit" outfits.
At first I thought I could make do with what I had, I wear mostly better than mall brand jeans, I had a dress, a pair of Target flats, a H and M scarf, and a couple of glittery wife beaters that I like to call my "going out" clothes. It became quickly apparent that I was sticking out like a sore thumb...my fellow Americans and I could spot eachother from miles away, just by the sight of wilderness-ready, double layer jackets, and the glaring, shiny swoosh on our Nike sneakers. Things really got bad when walking back to my flat one night with a guy I had taken a "fancy" to I casually remarked, "I think I need a better coat." Only to be shocked when he replied, "Yeah, you do look like you might be embarking on some sort of polar expedition..."
A certain amount of cultural assimilation NEEDED to occur and luckily I was in the perfect place to do it. Norwich, where my university is located claims, that it has all the Highstreet stores with out the without the chaos of London! It boasts two huge malls, a Topshop, a Primark, a Principles, NEXT, Wallis, Laura Ashley, and three or four department stores - all within a one mile radius.
Four dresses, two pairs of shoes, a pair of jeans, a pair of shorts, three headbands, a pashmina, four pairs of leggings, a spring-weight coat, a Toni and Guy haircut and two sets of knickers later I finally feel as though I don't look like a freaky mountain woman everytime I leave my room and I'm not ashamed every time I queue for the coat check...
But with all this spending of pounds I might seriously have start thinking about a career as an "escort"...
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