The Wedding of the Year is not too far away now and I am beginning to get slightly edgy about what to wear. I have started the watching what I eat process today (am presently munching on grapes after eating chicken for supper and feeling very virtuous) and really could do with shifting about 10lbs before W day.
As it is a winter wedding, I have decided that the first thing to purchase is a gorgeous coat, one that will be great for The Day, but can be worn afterwards. Much though I would like to splash out on a super outfit for one day only, it is financially impracticable, so I have to marry Sense with Sensibility. I have purchased a few glossy, fashion mags recently so I can have a look at what is coming up and all they do is fill me with despair. If I was a stick insect or Victoria Beckham (though perhaps they are the one and same) I would have no difficulty whatsoever. However, as a tall, well built woman, fairly generously endowed and, after two children, not exactly boasting a washboard tum, there seems to be a startling lack of choice. Also, I gather that the colour this autumn is BLACK. Ordinarily, I have no problem with this, I live in this colour most of the time, but for a wedding, no.
However, log onto Mother of the Bride websites and there are some staggeringly appalling outfits which would make a middle aged mother look like an overdressed Christmas Tree. these on the left are the plainest ones I can find believe it or not. Most of the models used for these outfits are only old enough to be mothers of a ten year old and should not be wearing these clothes anyway. They do add a spurious glamour to their awfulness, but put them on the average BritMum and disaster will result. Less is more in this case I feel.As my keyboard fingers are getting a tad sore, I have decided to come up to London on Saturday (must be mad after commuting for five days, but I have no choice really) and to have a look around the stores. I shall wear baggy old trousers and comfortable shoes and schlep around Oxford Street and beyond and see what I can see. When I was younger I used to dress up when I went shopping as store assistants had a habit of looking down their noses at you as if you were something that had crawled in off the street if you were not looking soignée enough, but now I don’t care. Comfort is all and if I look like a bag lady, well tough. Remember that scene in Pretty Woman when Julia Roberts was turfed out of a shop on Rodeo Drive as she was wearing her trash gear, and she returned later, beautifully dressed and told them BIG mistake? Love it.
In the past when this has happened to me, and it did once in Harrods Food Hall, I got my own back by making the assistant cut me a minute piece of cheese, and charge it to my account (yes I had one once) and when she saw my double-barrelled name she became revoltingly obsequious. Nothing posh about a hyphenated name; just means that two ancestors a while back decided to put them both together, that’s all. It is useful sometimes though.
So once the coat is bought, then the dress and that is where I will hit serious problems I know. Still I will worry about that a bit later. Let’s get the coat first. But then I have to worry about the hat, or not, the shoes, the tights, the make up. Oh dear it’s all too much to bear…
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