back west

driving home for christmas *la la la bus driver driving me home for christmas la la la... the joyous homecoming was neither as momentous nor as romantic as the songs had me thinking it would be. It feels on one hand like I've never left because everything is still so exactly the same as how it was, I came home late at night had some cereal and went to bed. Next morning everybody was pottering around absorbed in doing their own thing and that's been it, I stepped back into the stream of daily life, those already there remaining unaffected and indifferent. But on the other it feels like I've been gone an age and stepped back into a time warp, I've changed but little else has. And that hand hits me harder. It leaves a stronger sting of impact but this in itself is reassuring because at least it confirms in me that I know I'm only passing through now. The fear of returning to my old life would be getting stuck in a deep rut, which scares me to bits and is enough to drive me onwards. Hurrah. upwards.

I like being home because... There's food to nibble on when I'm in a picking mood, I can walk on the prom, the air is clean, i like the proximity of everywhere, i can cycle my bike again, i don't like being subjected to my mother's irritating house rules, or having to put up with her idiosyncrasys, but i like the unpretentiousness of the sales assistants in topshop, i like having friends with whom i can share in - jokes, i like having good friends on hand to be hungover with, i like having friends off whom i can borrow clothes, i like how it's easy to stand out as being relatively well - dressed, i don't like feeling inhibited by that same easily recognisableness and feeling somewhat restricted in what i wear because of it, i like overcoming that feeling because of the confidence i'm given by knowing i look good and have my best friend beside me looking the exact same.

One small thing that I take as a given in Dublin is ripped tights. They emanate the grunge look in an otherwise ordinary outfit. You look on trend without looking gothic or godforbid like you're trying too hard. But the Galway boys are whatever the word is for the complete opposite of ostentatious, with regard to fashion and I have had much slagging for wearing tights with holes in them. In my defense I have never deliberately set out to destroy fine hosiery, it just happens that probably nine out of ten pairs of tights I own have rips and ladders in them and I keep them all to wear doubled up. Two at a time guarantees that one will cover the holes in the other, but of late I've taken to colder legs and only taken from my drawer one pair at a time. Well I like it, and Alexander Wang liked it a whole lot last year in his fall 08 ready to wear collection: