Sartorially Speaking

This post is dedicated to my sister Hannah, who finds my current clothing situation particularly laughable, and delights in telling me what gorgeous, fashionable things she is wearing every day. In the summer months dressing for camper van chic was never really a challenge: sling on a bikini and a pretty summer dress, flip flops and maybe something a bit flamboyant like a head scarf- et voila! Perfect summer laid-back dressing. The summer wardrobe was never really a source of embarrassment- everyone in the surfing towns we’ve been visiting dresses like this, there’s no attention to the season’s trends or a divide between the fashionable people and the non-fashionistas, everyone looks the same. Some people might find this a bit depressing, but for me- a person who has never quite had her finger on the pulse of fashion- it was a relief. After living in Bournemouth where there seemed to be a veritable army of plastics wandering around with their long, fake-tanned limbs, swishing their highlights around and channelling every new trend to hit the shops- and where I inevitably felt like a frumpy, fashionably backward, pale comparison- summer dressing on the continent has been stress-free. In fact, in Portugal I felt like a fashion goddess. I don’t want to tarnish the whole country with the same brush, so please remember that I am only talking about Figueira da Foz where we spent most of our time, but my god- those ladies had some strange ideas about what to wear! Rhine-stone encrusted, stonewashed tight dungaree dresses, backless, frontless, crutch-hugging, sequined, neon-coloured monstrosities were everywhere. I felt like I’d been transported to Dollywood, and this was fine by me who sat smugly by channelling my own hippy chic look and feeling a bit fashionably superior for once.

So summer dressing was a breeze, oh how I loved it, oh how I wish I could be transported back to those heady days. Because now I am living in fashion hell. The French women, who quite frankly seemed to let their high-gloss, high-maintenance standards slips for the balmy summer days have embraced the new chill in the air with gusto. Out come the knee high, buttery soft leather boots with beautiful fitting jeans and crisp white shirts, silk scarves artfully knotted at the neck, or around the hips, long, tailored lambswool coats- I could go on, but I am sure that you get my point. There’s no doubt about it, these ladies know how to dress.... and I don’t! Well, that’s not strictly true- I am in fact impaired by the lack of winter clothes that we packed to bring away with us. You might recall that our initial plan was to return to the UK in October to swap our summer clothes for our winter ones. This was because we were planning to head up to the Alps for the winter, and therefore we would need our salopettes and ski booties and jumpers that we didn’t have room for in Gertie over the summer months. Sadly we didn’t go back to the UK in October. I say sadly because now I find myself wearing the scant few winter clothes that I did pack (for the occasional chilly summer evenings) every single day. We changed our plans because we decided that our savings would last longer of we stayed in Hossegor for the winter and concentrated on making websites, and it’s a sound plan; but I would like to go back to the day that I agreed to it and have a word in my ear: ‘what exactly are you going to wear for the next 5 months Kate?’

I don’t consider myself to be a vain person, and I am not usually preoccupied with what to wear, but I realise that is because I usually have clothes suitable for every occasion, so it’s not something I need to think about. Winter 2006, for example, I was channelling Red Riding Hood with my lovely red winter coat and fluffy boots. Clothes weren’t something that I ever spent a lot of time thinking about, but now I find myself pining for that coat and those boots, and the rest of my winter wardrobe for that matter because my current winter collection consists of: one pair of black jeans, a green jumper, a red jumper, a black jumper and a brown hoodie. Full stop. Yes, every day when I get dressed I am faced with the difficult decision between.... 4 jumpers! I don’t even have a coat here, and if I decided to mix it up and not wear my jeans I would have nothing to wear to cover my bottom half- and I wouldn’t inflict that on the gentile people of France! And don’t even get me started on footwear. Oh alright then, if you insist, I am currently living in the only shoes that I have brought with me that aren’t flip flops or open-toed wedges and that is: trainers! Every single day I wear trainers, no matter what the situation, if we’re going out to a bar or a restaurant they’d better not have a no-trainer policy, because if they do then I am not getting in! I have seriously considered cracking out the flip flops again, just for some variation on the trainer theme, but the morning frost kind of puts me off. So trainers it is then.

And it’s only now that I begin to realise that although I might not think I’m vain, and I might never have spent hours agonising about what to wear, the clothes that you wear do really affect your mood. If it’s the same thing every single day, no variations, you begin to feel a bit... well, dull really. I never thought about how much that red coat affected me, but I now see that it put a spring in my step and brought a splash of colour to the otherwise grey winter days; I never knew that a choice between two pairs of shoes could make me smile- but it does and I will never take that choice for granted again. I might not have the most fashionable wardrobe in the world waiting for me back in my parent’s loft (in fact it’s all at least a season old, so it definitely isn’t fashionable) but I am salivating at the thought of being able to wear it all again. Roll on Christmas I say, the first thing I am going to do when I get home is get that loft ladder out! (n.b. I would like to assure my friends and family that of course I am looking forward to seeing them too, the excitement is not just about the red coat- honest!)