Guardian Girl

My heart sank when I opened the fashion pages this week. Not only was I destined to spend Saturday mooching around the shops in a floor-length golden ballgown, but I was also to spend the next three days writhing against walls in public places while pulling facial expressions suggestive of a Viagra overdose. It’s not my favourite way to spend time.

I managed to make a surprisingly good effort at the first outfit though, mostly thanks to a lovely Farhi by Nicole Farhi silk blouse that has the requisite big shoulders. I dug out a gold lace dress that I wore for my sixth form ball 13 years ago (from underneath my “Sunkist cans 1979-2004” collection), added a nasty glittery belt I bought aged 22 while conducting an experiment involving copying the lifestyle makeovers in Zest magazine to see what would happen to me (bad clothes, naff hair, loads of pilates classes) and hey presto! There was the gold outfit I needed. I spent the rest of the day laughing at terrible second-hand t-shirts (and their price tags) on brick lane and discovering that gold lace dresses are impractical garments for wearing on the back of scooters in winter.

Later on, Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall’s bollito misto recipe for 10 provided ample sustenance for two friends and I before we headed to a Victorian-themed party at which I looked not very Victorian.

No photos of the tasty meat feast but horrendous evidence of outfit below.

Oscar beckons

Oscar flicks the Vs

Conclusions:

•  Tiring of gold, beige and sequins even before having to wear the outfits this week.
•  But dead excited about Hugh F-W’s apres-ski food: proper carb fests every night and a good reason to invite lots of pals around.
•  Also something i’ve been pondering after spending my days in pokemon t-shirts and ugly gold get-ups: this experiment is ironically becoming an exercise in setting vanity, fashion and style to one side. I put on the closest thing I own to that day’s look and I head out of the door. I’m fast learning there’s no point in worrying what i look like as I have no choice, so I get on with other things instead. It’s very good for a person, I think. A bit like school uniform – allows you to concentrate.
•  Rejected Clarks clogs on the basis that I don’t like them enough to spend £50 on them and must try to retain some financial and ethical responsibility while playing this game.
•  Labour and Wait was shut by the time I got there so no posh apron for me. Phew. More cash saved, less cotton wasted. Although perhaps an apron would make a lot of sense given that I find myself cooking in silk blouses on an almost daily basis. Hmm.