Well, the velvet jacket was snapped up within 40mins of my tweeting about it. That 40mins was long enough for me to picture people frowning in polite disdain at the thought of accepting a third hand jacket from me. I was particularly pleased that it was bagged by a young person. What greater accolade could be bestowed on a 50 year old, than that someone young enough to be her daughter (?granddaughter? Oh, banish that monstrous thought!) sees potential merit and stylishness in her wardrobe? She tells me she will be handing on a Dorothy Perkins skirt to a skinnier friend. There. A nice virtuous chain has been established.
Today I've been wearing my biker jacket. I was having another go at the long-tailed shirt look, and I believe I pulled it off rather better today. The reason for today's look was the urge to wear a hat. Well, not some much urge to wear a hat as urge not to wash my hair. The hat in question is a sort of peaked beret, which has a slight steamer captain vibe going on. It works well with the leather jacket. I teamed it with pockets stuffed with tissues and cough sweets and sat rather glumly through the 10.30 service. I hate February.