Weekend9

By Helen May. Anyone who knows me, knows that I just lurve my clothes. It’s a bit of an obsession and I have been known to get a little breathless before a splurge in Harvey Nicks. I have clothes in my wardrobe still with labels on just waiting for a suitable occasion. I never throw any clothes away, knowing that if I did I would surely one day pine for the ra-ra skirt that has now come back into fashion. And while I love making my home pretty, I would swap anything in my house for the perfect pair of killer heels any day (Sorry Alison – heathen that I am& ). So why the crisis?? Well, we have just about arrived in winter here in Oxfordshire. After unseasonally high temperatures in October, November arrived with crisp mornings and I welcomed the opportunity to showcase my new winter wardrobe which includes a divine little fake fur short coat with three-quarter length sleeves. Yum. But then alas! My work took me to Paris for a few days and I couldn’t have felt more Parisien if I’d tried in my new coat, leather gloves and patent leather stilettos. However, I wasn’t really looking like that much of a native as it seemed that the plane journey had taken me back a season. Paris was still enjoying temperatures of about 24 degrees and within half an hour of arriving my feet were swollen, my face flushed and along with all my other luggage, I didn’t have enough hands to carry my coat as well, so had to endure tropical temperatures inside my fur cocoon& So un-chic darling. But I survived and managed to adapt my wardrobe to suit the weather (needless to say, I don’t ‘do’ travelling light so had a fair few light pieces in reserve in my suitcase& ). And so back to the UK. And I put my summer wardrobe in hibernation for the winter and started to prepare for my next trip. Tickets? Check. Passport? Check. Hotel booked? Check. But today, just a couple of days before my departure, I decided in my new found wisdom after my Paris experience, to check on the weather at my next destination& Dallas, Sweeties. Dallas! And it’s 30 degrees! WHAT IN THE NAME OF LOVE AM I GOING TO WEAR?? And how will I bear my legs after 2 months of hiding under 60 denier tights? I’m not sure I can mentally make the adjustment let alone adapt my wardrobe. So it’s back up to the attic to rescue the summer wear, by now nestling between the ra-ra skirt and long, black satin evening dress with the label still on I just know I’m going to need one day… Recommended Reading… *