Like many women whose sartorial choices lean towards the vividly bright, I've become used to comments from total strangers. There's something in those oft-heard phrases - You're not afraid of colour, are you? or I wish I was brave enough to dress like that. Colourful clothing really does break down barriers and you'll never go unnoticed, so, if you're the kind of person who doesn't enjoy being singled out for attention or being involved in random conversations wherever you go it's probably safer to stick to beige.
Colour is a mood enhancer. It doesn't matter how crap a day you're having, stick on some clashing shades, a splash of neon lipstick or a psychedelic print and, if you don't feel better, demand a refund.
Be warned though, the day you eschew hot pink, cobalt blue, mustard, turquoise and emerald green you risk the wrath of your mates complaining that muted colours aren't really you (as some of last Friday's blog comments revealed).
Talking of that blog post I neglected to share the other treasures from last week's suitcase of forgotten 1970s fashion so here they are:
If I hadn't enough stock already, yesterday I thought I'd test out my new bag (made from a granny-ish tapestry seat cover bought at last weekend's jumble sale) and take it out chazzing*.
*Charity shopping
*Charity shopping
| Wearing: Hindi print tee shirt (Street market, Kerala, 2012), Vintage satin maxi (the divine Helga), 1970s suede belt, leopard print almost-Litas, American Eagle hat (all bought second-hand) |
..And test it out I did. Thankfully we'd packed extra bags or my stitching skills would have been seriously challenged!
Most of which will be making it's way to the Kinky Melon stall at Castle Hall, Bridgnorth on Saturday.
| Red wool trousers (made by me with jumble sale fabric & a 1972 Simplicity pattern), 1960s St Michael psychedelic blouse (the lovely Jo), blue suedette fake Litas (£5, off the market) |
I'm wearing red in celebration of us qualifying for the World Cup, 2014. Every 4 years I become a football bore, filling in wall-charts and discussing tactics with any poor sod within ear shot. The obsession may have started back in 1968 when, on a family holiday to Wales, I managed to escape from our hotel room in Tenby, toddle down the corridor and get myself rescued by Geoff Hurst, the man responsible for scoring the goal that won England the World Cup in 1966, who was staying with his family in the room directly opposite.
Don't worry, I'll try to keep the football chat to a minimum next Summer!
See you soon.
Don't worry, I'll try to keep the football chat to a minimum next Summer!
See you soon.

