Who was your first fashion crush?

I have clothing issues.  Or obsessions.  Take your pick.

Through self-analysis (actually over a glass of wine or two with a girlfriend), I’ve managed to pinpoint those clothing issues or obsessions back to my first fashion crush – the woman whose fashion sense inspired me.

Mum and dad split when I was six years old. Not long after, dad moved us to the country town where my grandparents lived.

I arrived at school on a stinking hot Queensland February day in the 1970s.

Wearing a uniform to school wasn’t compulsory.  Most days we didn’t even wear shoes on our feet (did I mention this was Queensland?).

The thing was, all I wanted was a uniform.  I wanted to look like everyone else.  I wanted to fit in.

I was the new girl. The girl who lived with her dad.  Not her mum. No-one else in that class, probably the whole school, had parents who had separated (did mention it was the ‘70s?). So, I really didn’t want to stand out.  Any more than I already was.

My Year Three teacher was an elegant lady. (I rarely use the word lady but it’s totally appropriate for Mrs H.)   The first day I met her, it was fashion love at first sight.  Her hair was always perfectly “done”; her berry matte lipstick never smudged.  She was always in a 1950s-style floral, printed, cotton frock, fitted around the bodice and ballooning out in a wide skirt over her ample hips.  Pointed-toe kitten heels completed this impressionable fashion picture.

If I wasn’t to own a uniform, then somehow, deep down, I knew I had to impress Mrs H.  I remember one Monday morning seeking her out in the playground before school to show her my new dress.

Well, it wasn’t new. It was part of a haul of clothes I’d received on a weekend visit with my mum and my nan in Brisbane.

Nan, bless, had combed her local Vinnies op shop and found me five cotton dresses that, with just a few alterations, were perfect for me (… if only vintage meant something back then).

I ran up to Mrs H, holding the corners of the dress with the tips of my fingers and breathlessly asked: “Do you like my new dress?”

I repeated this clearly desperate manoeuvre at the same time every day that week.  Five days; five new looks –  a fashion victim in the making.

Not once did she roll her eyes or dismiss my curtsies and twirls with a wave of her hand.  She just smiled that reassuring Mrs H smile (no lippy on those teeth either) and uttered the words I’d been longing to hear …

“That dress is beautiful.  Just like you.”  With those few words, my fashion crush just got a whole lot deeper.

Nikki writes at Styling You and you can follow her on Twitter here.

Do you remember your first fashion crush?   Do you have any current fashion crushes, famous or not? Women you just LOVE to look at?

Check out this gallery for some inspiration….