This is SUCH a difficult one for me. In my old child-free corporate-salary days, life was simple. Margaret Howell suits and Russell & Bromley (or LK Bennett) shoes for work, Boden (I know, I’m sorry: I was that girl) and R&B loafers for the weekend. Shift dresses from Austin Reed or Jaegar, scarves and wraps from Accessorise and Bob was my uncle (as indeed he is).
Now, with two boys, a different figure that I still don’t quite ‘fit’, a pesky dog who insists on jumping up, a shedding cat, all my own housework to do and a minimum of 3 hours walking to do every day… I just don’t know anymore. I seem to lurch between jeans, trainers (or wellies) and any sloppy old fleece, then get depressed, so go to the other end of what I would have termed ’smart-casual’ in the old days but which here makes me look as though I’m off up to Edinburgh for a secret liaison.
Any suggestions would be very gratefully accepted. It is no good telling me to utilise the old clothes because during any manic episode the first thing to go are clothes – capsule wardrobe is an understatement. Earlier last year I found myself in the middle of February with NO knitwear: this is Scotland! I think I had reasoned that it was nearly spring, everything was frumpy anyway, and it all had to go.
Trying on clothes is a nightmare, I just don’t have the time or confidence, and to be quite honest I get pretty overwhelmed in a shop with narrow aisles and strip lighting. One of the Trinny & Susannah books recommended jeans (OK), plimsoles (OK, but not when it rains), white t-shirt (OK-ish now that the puree and projectile vomiting phase is over) and a chic jacket. Therein lies the problem: the chic jacket. I bought 2: one from a charity shop, one from eBay – both very beautiful in a modern tweedy way. I have tried to wear them for normal everyday activities, but they don’t fit under my winter coats (which get used from autumn through to spring – and beyond!), I am terrified of getting bread/pastry dough pressed into the jacket sleeves and they don’t roll up to do the washing-up. The back rides up quite uncomfortably letting the Siberian wind attack my kidneys while I attempt to hang out the washing to dry. Jackets are also just not cuddle-friendly: I wish I was more of a cuddle mummy, or maybe that the boys were more amenable to being cuddled, but on the odd occasion that they do want to snuggle in, I do not want sartorial elegance to get in the way.
So, this season (ha!!), I am going to try out the jeans and white t-shirt thing, but with soft and pretty cardigans. I might even attempt to customise and embellish the way other clever, wholesome mummies manage to while simultaneously darning a sock and preparing a gourmet meal for their adoring husbands to come home to.