I will be the first to admit that I was not a born fashionista.

I never used to put on my mother’s high heels from the age of two. I was somewhat of a late bloomer, and never once in my childhood dreamed that I would one day be obsessed and enthralled by the world of fashion.

Without wanting to berate myself too much, I was a bit chubby throughout my teenage years, and growing up, I never really saw the point in fashion. Clothes never seemed to look great on me, so I saw them, as a means to cover my curvy figure up in a way that I hoped would shield me. Thus, tracksuit bottoms and cargo pants with a million pockets became my uniform.

In my first year of university, when most young women discover their sense of style, I was still desperately clinging onto my outdated 'comfy' attire. At first, this really did not bother me. I was enjoying my History of Art degree, meeting new people and being alone with my boyfriend for the first time, to really care too much about how I looked. However, at night, when the clubbing rituals began, I, for the first time in my 18-year-old life, realised that I had nothing to wear!

Now let me get this straight, I was by no means a hugely fat girl. At 5’8 I was a size 14-16 (okay…16 was more accurate), and although I know that in Britain today a 16 is the national average, I simply felt that this body was not me. I also do not believe that to love fashion, and look 'fashionable' you have to resemble a stick insect with no breasts. I see plenty of fuller figure women today looking absolutely amazing (just look at the inspiring and achingly cool Beth Ditto), but I did not know how to dress, and look sexy, alluring and cool.

It was at the end of my second year that I discovered something that would change the direction of my life; a discarded Vogue, lying adjacent to me on a train journey from Birmingham to Watford Junction. Either a very careless woman or the fashion gods had left it there for me and me alone to see. I started leafing through it. All of a sudden I could no longer flick through. The images, the photography, and the alluring models, with their glossy pouts and moody glares, enthralled me. Names like Balenciaga, Lanvin, and Chanel called to me. I wanted more.

I stopped at a newsagent and purchased Grazia, Elle, and Glamour. As I studied each page, I not only wanted to learn more about fashion, but, for the first time, I wanted to be fashionable. I wanted to know what the latest trends were, and to be able to wear them. I knew I was not happy with the way I looked, so I enrolled in a popular slimming club. I was the youngest by about 10 years, but I didn’t let this put me off. I followed the plan, and was thrilled to return to my final year almost two stone lighter.

Through my newfound devotion to style, I was able to spot trends, make them work for me and finally develop my own personal style. I went from my mother begging me to buy some new clothes, to her begging me to stop!

Throughout my GAP year, I lost a further 1.5 stone, taking me to a healthy size 10 (on a good day!) I spent 4 months travelling with my boyfriend. Our final destination was the magical land of Japan, a country that truly inspired my newfound fashion loving self. I became obsessed and found myself loading up on gear from the Japanese high street.

My first soiree in the trade was as a receptionist (slash slave), at a very respected designer brand. I was placed in the head office, and was immediately intimidated by the pristine, stylish rooms and the elegant, minimal displays. I didn’t learn much sitting at a reception desk, answering phones and taking abuse from mean, rich women, demanding to know when their £10,000 bag would be ready. This surely should have sent me running for the door, however…the showroom…the beauty of the items hanging on the rails, waiting to be sent out to the press was all the incentive I needed to keep going.

With no creative roles available, I left my job, and went on the hunt. The next step: internships - a necessary evil! No pay, degrading jobs, long hours, but, if you are lucky, you might get your travel expenses reimbursed! However, you also learn invaluable lessons, and humility. My first internship was with a beloved glossy. I met great people, assisted on photo shoots, and got to work with some of the best in the business. Of course, this was after proving my dedication, and staying put, unpaid (eek) for 6 months.

We all wish that at the end of these internships the dream job is waiting for us, however, this is very rarely the case…luckily for me, I was offered a great part time role. I was asked to assist a well-known TV stylist in creating a fashion guide. I worked tirelessly for two months, casting models, going on appointments and shooting in a studio 12 hours a day - friends were envious, I was knackered (and broke), but as exhausting as it was, I loved every second.

After this experience, I felt for sure that, however cutthroat and thankless this industry could sometimes be, I loved it! My personal style had evolved, and I felt more confident in myself. The former girl of my past had finally emerged from her chubby unfashionable layers, into what I had always wanted to be.

I stumbled into fashion PR next, where, although I was told I needed to be thicker skinned and “have the niceness stamped out of me,” (I listened to the former and ignored the latter), I learned skills, which have served me well. I was put through my paces during my first Fashion Week, and had to face my insecurities of cold-calling members of the press. The nature of the economy at the time meant that this job did not last, and, although a bit miffed to lose it, I picked myself up, and started working for freelance fashion stylists and editors. 

So, here I am, and new and exciting opportunities are on the horizon, and I am ready to face them head on. There have been times when my insecurities have raised their ugly heads, and I thought I had to be skinny, or prettier…but to me, that is not what fashion is about. I don’t need to look like a pre-pubescent boy to enjoy style, or to feel like I belong in this industry. I have had my fair share of set backs and challenges along the way, as well as working with some fairly vile people, but I certainly would not change a thing. I am 25, in a business that I adore.

I am by no means the next Anna Wintour (just yet), but I will keep trying until I get there!