I have many times lamented the fact that when living in rural Southern England, my sartorial choices are limited. There is always the mud and if not the mud then sand from the beach. There is always the changeable weather (typical Brit: weather-obsessed). There is always the lifestyle; dog walking, school run, pop to the shops, yoga etc. Oh the life I lead! Anecdotally, I realised yesterday that I have a fair amount of guilt about the life I lead. I feel inherently that I should be doing more, all the time. I decided this whilst reading my favourite John Updike book (best for writing inspiration) in the middle of the afternoon. Sigh. I then felt it again as I prepared healthy snacks for my unwell daughter, with all the time in the world. Again when I hung out seersucker bed linen on the washing line and then later when I brought it in, dry, it smelled like childhood. Even though I know these activities are good and real and often necessary, not least because I have made a conscious life/health choice to do them, I still get the guilts. Anyway, whilst leading my lovely life...I wear my usual muggles uniform.
Being away last week afforded the chance to properly dress up. I remembered how much I like dressing up. To my peril though, as I opted for the blue shoes whilst strolling from our hotel. It was uphill in Monaco and I suffered sore feet in return for my style choice. Some people lead a life where a blue shoes equivalent is required every day. How lovely. Maybe their feet are more hardy?!
And can we just touch on French style? I know there are a million homages to French style; what it is, how to get it. There is something so special about it. Not least because those wearing the clothes are healthy and beautiful and undone without being done. It's an elusive thing, clearly. As far as I could see there was no one, single thing, more like an overall effect. And the appropriate use of hats. Like when you see a girl on a bus, who has a flower in her hair and perfectly applied red lipstick. N'est-ce pas Simone?!
What it boils down to is that I am impressionable about style. I know what I like to wear and have an ever-present conflict between classic/elegant and boho/quirky which I am sure, as I age, will drive me to distraction. If I see something, just an image or a glimpse, I get mini-obsessions that last a few days where I HAVE to find that item. More often than not I don't buy it, even if I locate it. But the mystery and possibility of finding the perfect item and it being mine is almost too much to bear! I definitely have too much time on my hands... :-)
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