How did I get here? Wading through a seemingly endless avalanche of perfectly inspired clothing in my 15 year old sister’s wardrobe before my big night out. Stressed, and feeling seriously unfashionable, I slip item by item off of hangers, searching for an outfit I want to scream  ‘effortlessly put-together’.  I know if it’ll be anywhere, it’ll be in her wardrobe.

Not so long ago, the roles were reversed. She stole my clothes, while I screeched at her to “GET OUT.” I generously offered her my hand-me-downs while she worshipped the ground I walked upon. Now, it’s me she can find in her new polka-dot blouse, fluffy olive green jumper, or lace-embroidered denim skirt, and even her flawlessly sourced jewellery collection isn’t safe from my envious clutches.

In my college accommodation, I’ve sincerely mourned the loss of her wardrobe, and accepted the simplicity of my everyday outfits, chalking it down to a temporary blip in style while I focus on studies and reinvent myself afterwards. When did everyone younger than me get so much cooler? It doesn’t help that each termly ‘move-out day’, my sister has been assumed the student and me the sibling. If that’s not an excuse for some retail therapy, I don’t know what is.

“I had to see what constitutes a desirable wardrobe at the grand old age of 15”

This quarter-life crisis left me seeking a solution. If I prefer her wardrobe to my own, and Cambridge makes nipping across the hallway to commit this theft impossible, I’ll simply have to make my wardrobe just like hers. Even my most prized garment, a dark, washed denim jacket, isn’t strictly mine: it’s my mum’s, and she’s had it since 2001.

Of course, I had to thoroughly inspect my sister’s gallery of cardigans and halter necks first, to see what constitutes a desirable wardrobe at the grand old age of 15 (which, apparently, suits students in their 20s too).

I’ve learnt that it’s all about variation: where I’m met with a sea of white tops, each an only ever so slight alteration of the last, she has vintage baby tees, a pastel yellow babydoll top, a strappy, shimmering vest transforming its wearer into an immediate disco ball, and the aforementioned cinched blouse, sprinkled with navy and pink polka dots. I think I own a singular skirt (and have done since I was 12 – the same one); she’s elevated hers by threading a strip of lacey ribbon through the belt loops. Of course, she also possesses a floral, mesh maxi skirt perfect for covering that extra bit of ankle in the unforgiving wintry weather and the ideal ruffled mini skirt for a warm summer evening.

“Where fashion was once all about sticking strictly to the trends, it is now about daring to divert from them”

Her hoodie/sweatshirt assortment? It’s the perfect ratio of cosy, foldover, off-the-shoulder sweaters to vibrant, graphic hoodies obtained at concerts with artists posing sexily on the back. Her jeans aren’t too skinny, too baggy or too long (mine are – I learnt this the hard way when the bottom eight inches got soaked in a particularly large puddle on Senate House Passage, and trailed miserably beneath my boots for the rest of my walk to Sidgwick.) What I clearly need is the perfect balance in between.

Her secret key to success is actually quite unoriginal. Vinted (alongside our favourite local charity shop) is a treasure trove of abandoned artefacts, once-loved and thus loveable again. Frequently, I’m told, she peruses these pages, making outrageously cheeky low bids to people who rarely accept them – but sometimes it pays off. I need to become the deep-sea diver of Vinted, and not give up after the first rejection, or sulk when my ‘liked items’ that I chose not to buy get sold to someone else. If you look hard enough, you’ll find distinctive (and discontinued) clothes that no-one else around you will own. Where fashion was once all about sticking strictly to the trends, it is now about daring to divert from them: uniqueness gets complimented.

Luckily for me, it’s just been Christmas. I didn’t make a list; I asked for some cash in hand, and I'm giving it to my sister to shop for me, ensuring I start 2026 as someone ‘fashionable’, finally.