This month, our Guest Editor Rebecca Gonsalves, Deputy Fashion Editor at The Independent, talks about her experience of wearing spectacles.
It wasn’t until I was in high school that an observant teacher noticed that I was struggling to read the blackboard from my position on the back row. She moved me away from the cool, naughty kids and up to the front – a crime that may have impeded my social life but probably helped my education in more ways than one. She also mentioned her concerns to my mother who dutifully whisked me away to the opticians. And so, I finally got my wish. Although, as I’d now hit puberty and had very different ideas about what was cool – hint, glasses weren’t on that list – I was less than enthusiastic about the idea of becoming a four-eyes, or as one employer so wittily put it ‘speccy Becky’.
I used to wear contact lenses when going out in the evenings, and still would to a really fancy affair, but I tend to forget that I’m wearing frames so I usually don’t bother. Now the most annoying thing about being short-sighted is needing glasses to find where I left my glasses.