OK, admission time. Today was the first day when I've thought I'm totally fed up with this not buying new clothes malarky. I'm bored. But because I was brought up a Baptist, I'm always alert to the whispers of conscience reminding me that thousands of people know about my New Year's resolution so I can't cheat because I'll be found out.
Well, the next best option was to wear something I haven't worn for such a long time it has almost passed back into the 'new' category. The warmer weather is just starting to bring a whole swathe of my wardrobe back into play. So I had a rummage and here's what I wore:
It's a silk tunic top from a charity shop. It may be from the M & S Autograph range, but the label was cut out before I even bought it. Do you like it? It reminds me of the marbled end papers from old hardback books. It did have a belt made from the same fabric, but I accidentally left that behind in the shop. The only thing that saves it from being a shapeless sack on me is the fact that it's cut on the bias. I wore it with skinny jeans and my dark brown suede desert boots, brown coat and blue pashmina scarf. This all-too-familiar lapse into matchy-matchy was heightened today by the presence of the chancellor. He had failed to consult me, and was in jeans and a brown shirt, shoes, fedora and coat.
Off we sallied to the charity shops of Historic Warwick, which I can never see on the road signs without thinking 'Histarwick Warwick, Historic Woric' and then wasting several minutes failing to come up with another place that has an equally satisfying rhyming adjective.
I can only hope the chancellor and I didn't look too twee in our matching colour scheme. The rules of non co-ordination are not so rigorous for men, I suspect--like so many other rules, even in this age of equality. I have never heard anyone apply 'mutton dressed as lamb' to a bloke, for example. And don't get me started on women bishops.