The Curse of the Slip On Shoes

The Diary of a Not So Ordinary Boy

Ah, fashion.  I’m not into catwalks or vintage, but I do like clothes.  I never used to be particularly bothered by them, other than that I knew what I liked and that was the soft, button-lacking sort; for most of my life, up until pretty much the arrival of Motherhood, clothes were what you wore to keep the chill off and that was pretty much that.

How things have changed.

It may have something to do with the coming of wages.  Wages that weren’t being spent on the doing-up-of houses and can therefore be spent on frivolities rather than practicalities, that is.  It may have had something to do with the wanting-what-you-can’t-have-after-your-body-has-been-forever-changed-by-childbearing principle, but, whatever it was, dressing myself has become an increasingly interesting pastime.  And not only me.  I am the chief wardrobe officer of the family; the lady chamberlain.

It’s a tricky business, it has to be said. …

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