I woke up this morning with some rather odd thoughts going through my head.
This was to do with clothes and the effect other people’s opinions have on our choices.
I’m not talking about spouses lying through their teeth when asked if our bums look big in this though.
Years ago, a young girl of 8 badgered her parents for a puffer jacket. Not for her one of the cheaper lines from a supermarket or chain store, but designer quality to the sum of around £120. She was thrilled to get her wish, and showed it off to her friends, one of which told her it made her look fat, and that was the end of that. She never wore it again.
Another young girl I knew wanted a new blazer, not a second hand one with the new school badge sewn on it. In order to get what she wanted, she deliberately put cigarette burns in it. Her mother took the blazer to a repair woman who fixed it and the girl never got another blazer of any description.
For myself, I had a variety of dresses made for me by my great grandmother when she came to stay on the Summer. Sis got the same frocks, so I ended up wearing them twice when they were handed down. Not all were favourites, but our dollies were the best dressed in town.
In my adult life, I was never really into fashion, putting comfort, casual and smart at the top of my list.
For work, I wore skirts and tops, very rarely dresses, as they were kept for special occasions or going out. Several dresses saw me well, but one I particularly liked and considered flattering was similar to this but in red
These days, I live in joggers and tees, purchased from the men’s department in a cheap clothes store but they last, fit forever, and don’t cut me in places I’d rather not mention.
Hubby was with me when I purchased my one and only frock for my niece’s wedding four years ago. I tried on three, all different sizes, but all fit me well.
You’ll see which one I bought below.Getting a handbag wasn’t a problem, but shoes? Ah. Trying on a pair of court shoes with a small heel, I nearly fell flat on my face, and green wellies or garden clogs definitely didn’t look right. However, I did have a pair of nurses slip-ons that I lived in and with a bit of polish were suitable. The three of us looked quite smart that day, especially us girls.
It wasn’t until I saw the photo on the left that I realised where my tan started ie my feet!!