The TASTEMAKER...
FELICITY KAY, 31, IS ELLE’S FASHION EDITOR
ne summer in my teens, I bought a crochet table cloth and turned it into a poncho with a belt. That’s how inventive growing up in rural Suffolk forces you to be. Car boot sales were the best of a bad situation, given our nearest store (a not so fashionable M&Co) was an hour away. Shopping became a fun challenge, and the extreme lack of options led me to work within the constraints I had, mixing men’s pyjamas with granny silk gowns and turning jumpers into dresses. Fashion magazines were my only point of access and, looking back, I can see the influence they had on my style.
Aged nine, I remember pairing my mud-covered field boots with a crepe floral dress and thinking it was the coolest thing anyone had ever done. I thought I was a style maverick, rebelling against my sartorially conservative family. I’ve kept this idea of styling softer pieces with something a bit tougher into adulthood, although over time I’ve become more minimalist.
For my first day as a fashion assistant at ELLE, I wore vintage leather trousers, a white shirt, black ponyskin loafers and a pink coat. The aim was simple and understated, which is always my go-to if I feel nervous.
Being a fashion editor means experimenting, especially with where you find inspiration. Part of your job is to find style in unexpected places. I used to wear PVC leggings bought for next to nothing from a sex shop long before wet-look leggings were everywhere. I still love to shop in unorthodox places and my most complimented piece last summer was a satin lace-trimmed slip skirt from the lingerie section at M&S, which was a steal at £2 in the sale. I wear it as clever layering with oversized men’s shirts to create a more office-appropriate look, but still with a feminine contrast.
I’m a lot less trend driven than I used to be. The coolest thing you can do right now is have a more conscious approach to fashion, and I’m definitely proud of wearing the same items repeatedly. My late mum’s leather pencil skirts are timeless and I’ve been wearing the same men’s vintage blazer for the past six years. If I can’t get eight outfits out of a piece of clothing then I won’t buy it: it wouldn’t be working hard enough for the money and its impact on the planet.
Last December, I got married in an Ellery dress I already owned – it was £3O in a sample sale. Our wedding was three weeks after my boyfriend proposed, so there wasn’t time to agonise over what to wear. If you’ve never imagined yourself in a bridal gown, try Cecilie Bahnsen, Simone Rocha, Shrimps or The Vampire’s Wife for a dress you can wear more than once.
My first pair of Céline shoes, gold-plated knee-high brogue boots, are the only thing in my wardrobe that I feel guilty about not wearing enough. But my general attitude is that if I love a piece, I’ll wear it to death.