The post title is ironic, of course.
Learning to value personal style and individuality over being "in fashion" is probably the most important step I have taken in order to feel confident about what I wear.
Not that Eldest LB appreciates this at all, she reckons my clothes are just plain old fashioned and that's that. "No offence, Mum," she said. None taken. No notice taken either.
No, the dedication of the title refers to my efforts to sort out my new and rather fabulous 1970s faux fur coat.
I think I may have squealed when I spotted it in one of my regular charity shops. The lady at the counter said they had only just put it out - there's serendipity for you, I'd only just popped in on the off chance, with giddy holiday-mode kids in tow, so I wasn't expecting to have much chance to look properly.
However, on wearing it today with, I noticed a cascade of black "bits" appearing all over the place, getting horribly stuck on my suede skirt.
The facing and the underside of the collar were disintegrating, the coating was flaking badly, and where it rubbed against my clothes underneath, it was shedding a deluge of black... plastic, I suppose. Bugger!
So I set to with my nails and a suede brush (terribly high-tech, I know) ....
... et voila! After some considerable time, effort and swearing, all the loose flakes of sticky nastiness were gone. See? That's dedication to the faux fur love.
These photos are so bad, the light was dismal, the red-eye corrector gismo didn't work, but I'm trusting you to see past my rubbish photography to the 70s sartorial glory! Please try.
Yes, another hat to fit my big head. I was admiring a leopard print trilby in John Lewis while Christmas shopping, but at £30 it was too expensive for me, so I was really chuffed to win this one on Ebay for a mere £2.29.
1970s Astraka faux fur, top and suede skirt (charity shopped), hat and tan boots (Ebay), tan leather bag (Christmas swap gift from Awesome Alex), scarf (flea market), face of a miserable cow (lack of light and a bad back).
I do love the Kinks, and I momentarily considered that song Roy Castle sang at the end of Record Breakers about needing dedication if you want to be the best, but in the end I plumped for the gorgeous Mamas and the Papas, which reminds me of my childhood. I have my eldest sister to thank for my love of 60s pop music.