Wardrobe schizophrenia

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Who isn’t a different person at home and abroad?

Grey Wetherall coatOne of my readers, Julie, called me ‘continental-elegant’ the other day, which I must say I’m very flattered by. Good job she can’t see me, though, is all I can add.

Today is one of those days when I realise my wardrobe is seriously schizophrenic. I’m sure we all have clothes for home and clothes for work, but since my home and my work are synonymous, what I have these days is clothes for home (Spudulika Slob – warmth being a priority) and clothes I can actually be seen dead in. Turn up unexpectedly and I don’t mind you finding me in a Slob outfit, but I wouldn’t actually go out in it. Nor, however, do I wear anything even remotely smart at home. 

Today, by lunchtime, I was on my fifth set of clothes of the day. This is a tad excessive, even for me, but it was unusually varied. I guess on most days in London, it was a case of sleepwear, workwear, maybe evening wear, then back home to sleepwear again. 

Today I got up (pink cashmere cowlneck and pyjama bottoms covered in penguins), and donned my slippers (green Uggs) and dressing gown (thick grey wool coat from Wetherall, top left) in order to have breakfast. I wear the coat as a dressing gown, incidentally, because I can’t find a dressing gown warm enough. 

MarinacThen I drove into town (fleece-lined tracksuit bottoms, pink cashmere sweater, Uggs, Marinac jacket from Lands’ End and purple beanie) and went swimming (which entailed a swimming cossie and flip-flops). 

deco coatBack home, I quickly changed to go to a Christmas fair at a friend’s art gallery (black viscose poloneck sweater, black lambswool trousers, 1930s lamé jacket in red, gold and black, several strings of pearls, a gold and blue lamé trenchcoat I made from this coat at left and black suede boots with three-inch stiletto heels). 

fleece poloThen it was home again, off with the posh togs and into a fleece polo, trousers and gilet, again all from Lands’ End, to bum about for the rest of the day subbing copy and hugging the woodburner.

Talk about horses for courses. I was pleased to note, however, that although I can no longer endure the agony of walking about in high heels, I can still stand in them for a couple of hours, so perhaps they are not entirely a thing of the past. 

My face today, meanwhile, has gone from the usual blurry-eyed morning ruin to red-eyed chlorine monster, to fully-made up red-lipped maven and back to my normal worn-off-makeup-but-can’t-be-bothered-to-reapply-it look.  Hopefully, however, it will not have to earn me any more bacon today, so I need not dig out any more Revlon China Red from the dregs of my 10-year-old lipstick case, which is increasingly becoming an exercise in futility. Time to track one down on Ebay.

Today shows up the problem with clothes – like a family car, it’s almost impossible to get one thing that will do duty as another. The only solution is to have an extensive wardrobe – gosh how awful…

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