Where is Rowena?: May 2016

Liveblog: Eurovision Song Contest 2016

, by Rowena Ball

Slave to Spandex: Confessions of a Leggings Addict

Many an epistolary teen novel opens with the protagonist's parent presenting them with a diary in which to discuss their thoughts and feelings, presumably as an alternative to dealing with NHS waiting-lists for therapy, or actually having a conversation with their insufferable brat child. As this blog is the closest thing I have to a diary, I have decided that I am going to use it to the same effect, and record in it my personal struggles and the obstacles that I face in my daily life. I do this in the hope that it will be the first step in my journey towards recovery. So here goes.

I, Rowena Ball, own far too many pairs of leggings.

Those who haven't spent a great deal of time with me in the past two or three years probably don't comprehend the extent of this problem, as it is a fairly recent acquisition. Let me be clear that we're not just talking about three or four pairs of identical black H&M leggings in varying states of shabbiness, with one woolly patterned pair that I break out around Christmas time. At my latest count, I own seventeen pairs of leggings.

Seventeen pairs. That means I could go almost three weeks wearing a different pair of leggings every day, and this is assuming that I wash each pair after one wear, which I do not.

I essentially have seventeen versions of the same item of clothing, just decorated differently. In one case I have literally bought three pairs of the same leggings in different colours. Would it be acceptable to have seventeen different versions of the same dress? I can't answer. I don't wear dresses anymore. There is only leggings.

It started with these.

#bmmermaidjellybeanlegs – because clothing this great requires its own hashtag

These are Mermaid Jellybean leggings from Black Milk, and they are my third-favourite thing that I have ever owned, after a fondue set and a pair of glittery Vivienne Westwood heels that I bought for 75% off. I bought them on a whim as a Christmas present to myself when I was twenty. They opened the floodgates to a veritable legging tsunami, which has swept away my wardrobe and left it looking how the north of England would have looked in December 2015 had Storm Desmond been made of nylon.

Why do I love leggings so much? There are so many reasons. For starters, they're stretchy, which means that I can keep wearing them regardless of whether I ~~lose or~~ gain weight*. If you buy good quality leggings (which, as a smart investor, I always do) they are basically future-proof. On a more short-term basis, they are extremely comfortable. Pretty much anything you wish to do during your day, you can do comfortably while wearing leggings, from running around playing sport to eating a five-course meal. When I was younger and more self-conscious I was more willing to squeeze myself into tight-fitting trousers made of rigid material and sacrifice my day-to-day comfort in order to look smarter or slimmer. Now I am older, chubbier, happier, more confident, and unwilling to physically restrict myself in order to trick people into thinking I wear a size 10 when I actually wear a 12.

Having said that, another reason that I like leggings so much – and the reason I started buying ones with bold prints in the first place – is that I think they look great. I'm sure plenty of people disagree, and they're entitled to voice that opinion, but I'm also entitled to ignore it and keep wearing leggings. Such is the magic of being a free citizen. Personally, I greatly enjoy walking around with colourful, patterned legs. It's far more fun than having normal-coloured legs – or, as is the case during the forty-eight weeks of the year that it's not hot enough in Bristol to have bare legs, plain black ones. My legs have been adorned with images of galaxies, sunsets, staves of music, and the plumage of tropical birds. Thanks to the magic of leggings and the forward-thinking fashion designers that create them, I can walk around with some of the greatest artistic masterpieces of the western world printed on my arse.

Disclaimer: this is not my arse, although I do own these leggings.
Credit: Black Milk Clothing

How the mighty have fallen, and how glad I am that they fell.

There is a thin line between an enthusiasm and an addiction, and it's difficult to know that you've strayed over it until it's too late. Here is a list of things that happened to me or that I did which made me realise that I have stumbled into the dubious, might-end-up-selling-an-organ-to-fund-your-habit zone:

I no longer feel comfortable wearing trousers. The last time I wore a pair of jeans was April 2015. A bird shat on me. I took this as a sign from the universe and have not put a pair on since.
I have seriously considered skipping social engagements because I wanted to win a pair of Black Milk leggings on eBay, and the auction was due to end while I was out.
To solve point 2, I now have the eBay app installed on my phone.
I signed up for Pinterest so I could look at new leggings from my favourite brands before they are released for sale. I don't really get the site and they spam me with emails, but I still won't delete my account because I might feel like I'm missing out on something. And by "something" I obviously mean new leggings.
Many of my tops and at least two pairs of my shoes were bought specifically to go with one pair of leggings.
I have had leggings shipped to me from different countries, and have paid exorbitant customs charges for the privilege of doing so.
I have considered changing careers so that I can work somewhere that allows me to wear leggings to work.
I have actually worn leggings to work on a few occasions (they were velvet American Apparel ones though, and so basically formalwear).
In my final year of university I went to social events where the other women in attendance wore dresses and heels, and I wore leggings.
I have become known in certain circles as "the leggings girl" and friends sometimes express surprise and disappointment when I turn up to a social occasion in a skirt or shorts.

The rise of so-called "fashion leggings", i.e. leggings that are more exciting than just one plain colour, has given people who like their clothes to be both stretchy and striking a multitude of options. On any given night out in Bristol, you will see tens if not hundreds of people who, like me, enjoy having the lower half of their body adorned with colours, patterns, and images. The trend is not just restricted to women, either (although, considering the female sex has historically been forced to suffer through corsets, I think we are entitled to enjoy this comfy clothes revolution out of respect for our ancestors and their displaced organs). Plenty of Bristolian men have realised the superiority of leggings over trousers, and the garment is fast becoming unisex in certain pockets of the world – generally the ones that involve psy-trance.

I would like to finish this blog by reassuring my readers (of which I think there are at least ten these days) that I am not being paid by Black Milk to promote their products. I am just a genuine fan. Although, if anyone at Black Milk HQ would like to reward me financially for my customer loyalty I would not try very hard to dissuade you. I'll probably end up spending the money on your website, after all.

Just as an additional note, I never want to hear the line "leggings are not trousers" ever again. No, they are not trousers. Neither are they T-shirts, hats, or scarves. They are an alternative item of clothing to trousers, just like skirts. Do you ever hear people saying, "Shorts are not trousers?" No, because it would be moronic. If you don't like how leggings look with short tops, that's your opinion and you're entitled to it, but please find a more eloquent way of expressing it than stating the blindingly obvious.

* Let's be realistic here. I love cake and hate exercise.

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, by Rowena Ball

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