W.W.C.W (What Would Cara Wear?)
- ellie jones
- Nov 4, 2015
- 2 min read

Rifling through the rails in TOPSHOP, it doesn't take me long to spot something I need (want) for my own ever-growing collection of clothing – a floor length kimono. I hold it out in front of me and ask myself 'what would Cara (Delevingne) wear?' This is the mantra I live by when scouring clothes rails for a life-changing garment.
Foolish, I know. Cara Delevingne is a 7ft supermodel, and I am well, let’s say, vertically challenged, and besotted by food. Of course, when I try it on, the kimono (complete with tassels) looks more like some kind of futuristic JML-patented broom on me. So, why do I allow myself to make these unattainable comparisons (aside from the fact I don't think I could pull the Umpa Lumpa style dungaree)? And why do I allow myself to believe a piece of clothing will boost my self-esteem and end all my body-image woes time and time again?
In the last 20 years we, the consumer, have been introduced to a new concept – the fast fashion market. These days you can buy a new top for the same price as a Happy Meal. Transform your whole image – including shoes and accessories – for under £20. With huge high street brands like Zara and H&M getting deliveries of brand new stock into their shops twice weekly, the days where fashion only had four seasons are well and truly over – what we now experience are 52 micro-seasons.
Not only is the micro-season bad for our bank-balances, it's also pretty detrimental for our body-image and self-esteem. What we are lead to believe by the fashion industry is 'affordable fashion', is actually the very reason we Brits now favour the 'big night in' – with 25% of our disposable income now being spent online, either on clothes or in big-name department stores, we no longer have the spare cash to go out for a drinks with friends, or a slap-up meal with our partner.

Every year, come October, I treat myself to a couple of cable-knit jumpers, some jeans and maybe a pair of boots to get me through the winter season. Fast-forward to the 1st of November, shop windows and magazines alike are adorned with new trends, and suddenly my winter wardrobe (that I convinced myself was timeless) now feels old and, dare I say it, so last micro-season. Ridiculous right?
Wrong. Gone are the days when we have to scrimp and save to get THAT bag. Thanks to store cards with crippling interest rates, if you want that bag you can have it – who cares if you'll end up paying double for it in the end?
And yes, for a few days, the bag does make me feel a bit like Carlisle's very own Cara; but come the following week when the shop mannequins are dressed head to toe in brand new trends and a bill arrives that's considerably more than I originally paid, I feel foolish, worthless and like a bit of an idiot for once again buying into the illusion that a piece of fabric will change my life.
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