Getting ready with Little G in tow is like juggling with a bag of knives…with a ticking bomb attached…whilst a mad box of frogs tap-dance on my brain.
In a perfect world, this would not happen – I’d get up at the mellow tweet of my alarm, do battle with the mirror and have breakfast on the go before she even wakes up. But this is not the world of Betty Crocker. This is the world of midnight vomit.
Needless to say, this morning I got ready in a whirlwind before Little G could do serious damage to herself…or the house.
I’ve been desperate (minor overstatement – forgive me) to do double Breton since I saw someone called Olivia Palermo (who’s wardrobe I feel like I’ve visited for supper but who’s actual function I’m not quite sure of) dressed like this. Did you see? She’s also wearing the flat tap-shoes I resurrected recently. So I must be stylish. Palermo says so.
Anyway, since then, I’ve tried every possible pairing of stripes I have – and I have a lot – with zero success. It’s actually really difficult to marry up stripes in perfect harmony. I know – why wasn’t I recognised for this monumental effort in the New Year’s Honours List?!
Finally, I tried these: a Whistles sweater and an Oasis midi skirt. Look…no Hobbs! Feeling a bit like Forrest Gump running free of his leg braces. Wobbly but strangely empowered.
The sweater is one of my go-to gals. It was part of the loot on a shopping trip that also harvested a Whistles dress (also Breton), and a Gerard Darel blazer – amongst other things. Those were the days. Nowadays, this seems pretty hedonisitc. I’d probably have to cash in my liver to even consider such a spree. Worth entertaining the notion.
Even though I wear the sweater all the time, it’s never quite looked as chic as I’d hoped. I always felt a bit like a sausage on a sailing trip in it. I’d put this down to my failure to actually be French. Unfortunate that. An oversight on my part. If only I were French, I’d think, I’d know the magical formula for I-just-don’t-give-a-damn-Breton. But, actually, all it needed was a friend!
Hair and accessories were sorted out in the dying seconds of the ticking bomb…before Little G had absolutely had enough of eating my cosmetics bag and marvelling at the mirror. I had to think fast. So, this silver bracelet was ideal. Understated, classic, perfectly casual.
Throw on a belt I liberated from a Ted Baker dress and the dependable Russell and Bromley brogues and there you have it – the perfect Anglo-Saxon combo. You can’t get more British than brogues.
And, wondrously, we have arrived at the half way point. 15 days into my New Year’s Resolution to wear the unworn, style the unloved and ditch the milk-drowned.
Yes, there really are 15 more days to go. Glass half full; glass half empty? Although, if you don’t count sundays, there are actually only 14 (let’s call it time off for good behaviour).