There’s something hugely comforting about a plaid shirt, especially a big, warm, fuzzy one. It’s perhaps not the obvious choice for Saturday night attire, but after subjecting myself to 10 hours of yoga in one day – which should be illegal, I have since concluded – I needed an outfit for dinner and a comedy club that felt as much like a sleeping bag as possible. This came pretty close.
If you can squint past the horrid lighting (note to self: learn some photography basics), you’ll see that I tried to look a little less like I was in my PJs by adding a chunky necklace, a half top knot, bright lipstick (always an error when going out to eat) and my new flatforms. Regular readers may recall my grief at laying my TopShop pair to rest, so these F21 versions filled a void in my wardrobe and, somewhat sadly, my heart.
On the basis that you can never overdo accessories (note to self: you can) I chucked a faux leopard skin bag and a tonne of rings into the mix. They may or may not have acted as an effective beard to my super-casual shirt. But I was too comfy to care.
My ultimate accessory or ten was Violet Beauregarde’s fingers due to an incident involving freeze dried blueberries at lunchtime. Even after multiple scrubbings I still looked thoroughly manky, It set the delicate mini rings off a treat. Note to self: aim to start acting and dressing vaguely like a lady before hitting 40. Or maybe 50. I think that note can go in my “pending” pile, near the bin.