Hello, my name’s Stacey Duguid and I’m a reformed fashion editor. Oh, wait. Wrong meeting.
I once worked for British ELLE magazine and wore expensive clothes, whereas I’m now a single mother, divorcee and love addict (wearing expensive clothes I never should’ve bought). I spent my entire twenties, and, err, alright, thirties, in nightclubs. Dabbling occasionally with the odd recreational drug (or five), I shopped hard, loved hard and tried very hard to find a man who could save me. From the stuff we pick-up as little girls to an ingrained internalisation of gender roles we’re left to unpack for a lifetime, I’d spent a lifetime pursuing a dream marriage which, in the end, left me shattered. Who suggested ‘happily ever after’ was even given thing?
This collection of essays tells the story of a life that, until my marital breakdown, looked absolutely f-ing fabulous. I’ll talk about everything that is taboo in today’s society, some of which you may have gone through, too: miscarriage, abortion, debt, affairs, divorce, single parenting, post-natal depression, sex and dating in mid-life. The cracks in my life were glossed over with a big smile, a large wine and an outfit I definitely couldn’t afford. And then, in September 2021, I realised I had two choices: quit faking a life filled with Paris Fashion Week jaunts and expensive handbags or leave social media. I decided to tell my truth.
Had someone told me not to worry about meeting a man, and to stop blowing money on credit cards just because the ‘spirits’ (as in dead people, not vodka) told me I needed ‘a new wider-shoulder jacket’, despite it being a week before payday and not having enough money in my account to pay rent, would I have listened? I’m not sure. Had someone (or a spirit) mentioned that the so-called ‘happily ever after’ might not end up so happy, would my life be any different now? I doubt it, but in writing my story, I hope you’ll feel less alone in yours.
You are not alone on this journey of womanhood and we all have the right to pursue our own happiness, or perhaps our own contentment. Because happy endings, not the type you pay for but the state of mind, are they possible to ever really find? Have you?
I once worked for British ELLE magazine and wore expensive clothes, whereas I’m now a single mother, divorcee and love addict (wearing expensive clothes I never should’ve bought). I spent my entire twenties, and, err, alright, thirties, in nightclubs. Dabbling occasionally with the odd recreational drug (or five), I shopped hard, loved hard and tried very hard to find a man who could save me. From the stuff we pick-up as little girls to an ingrained internalisation of gender roles we’re left to unpack for a lifetime, I’d spent a lifetime pursuing a dream marriage which, in the end, left me shattered. Who suggested ‘happily ever after’ was even given thing?
This collection of essays tells the story of a life that, until my marital breakdown, looked absolutely f-ing fabulous. I’ll talk about everything that is taboo in today’s society, some of which you may have gone through, too: miscarriage, abortion, debt, affairs, divorce, single parenting, post-natal depression, sex and dating in mid-life. The cracks in my life were glossed over with a big smile, a large wine and an outfit I definitely couldn’t afford. And then, in September 2021, I realised I had two choices: quit faking a life filled with Paris Fashion Week jaunts and expensive handbags or leave social media. I decided to tell my truth.
Had someone told me not to worry about meeting a man, and to stop blowing money on credit cards just because the ‘spirits’ (as in dead people, not vodka) told me I needed ‘a new wider-shoulder jacket’, despite it being a week before payday and not having enough money in my account to pay rent, would I have listened? I’m not sure. Had someone (or a spirit) mentioned that the so-called ‘happily ever after’ might not end up so happy, would my life be any different now? I doubt it, but in writing my story, I hope you’ll feel less alone in yours.
You are not alone on this journey of womanhood and we all have the right to pursue our own happiness, or perhaps our own contentment. Because happy endings, not the type you pay for but the state of mind, are they possible to ever really find? Have you?
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