Every time a bartender or security guard looks at my ID, I cringe. The driver's license features a photo taken on my 17th birthday where I look like a middle-aged Gok Wan fan who's decided to 'glam up' for the school run.
This is partially down to my Rimmel Sun Shimmer tan and accidental bouffant hair style, but it's mainly thanks to the awful Ancient Egyptian-inspired dangly earrings I wore to look grown up in the shot. I remember picking up the picture from the photo booth printer, and immediately deciding never to wear earrings again. They just 'didn't suit me'.
Fast-forward to my 25th birthday. I'd been drinking on Brick Lane all afternoon, when I stumbled into the Gogo Philip shop and fell in love. A dark little den of vintage gems, gold hoops, weed leaves and palm trees, the store was a total surprise. I bought a pair of three-inch hoops with a little palm tree hanging inside and rather than make me look old, they made me look spring-break-in-Miami sass.
It was the start of an extensive collection of statement earrings from around the world. My desk-mates have now got used to a stream of parcels arriving in the office from independent designers: hoops with bold blue tassels, giant pastel plastic, chunky gold animals. I probably own about 20 pairs that really divide opinion.
None of them will ever live up to that first pair of Gogo Philip hoops though.
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