Some people pay therapists thousands of pounds for that one rare, crystallising moment of self-awareness. Mine came free, one sunny Saturday afternoon, in the back of my own wardrobe.
I was into the second hour of what was becoming my weekend ritual - tidying and (failing at) organising my ever-growing mountain of clothes - when it happened.
While searching for my beloved cream Stella McCartney blouse, long lost in the cavernous jumble, I stumbled across a pair of trousers that made me look at myself in the mirror and actually say out loud: 'Good God, woman, this is disgusting.'
It was not because they were some ancient fashion horror from the Eighties - far from it.
They were from one of my favourite designers, the French label Carven. Grey, cropped, wool - exquisite. I'd been thrilled to spot them in a Net-A-Porter sale, marked down from £400 to £100.
Read more here.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: only a member of this blog may post a comment.