Post by C.M.
Unlike most everything else I’ve tried my hand at, I am loathe to admit that I’m not very good at shopping. Before you protest “Country Mouse! I’m sure you always look the very epitome of chic, don’t let a little panic-sweat-patches induced by being surrounded by crazy eyed bargain hunters get you down!” Sale season is the worst, but not being able to find something I’ve dreamt up and set my heart on never ceases to disappoint me, not to mention waiting for ages to try a top on that is sure to get stuck and having someone’s offspring pull open the curtain of the dressing-room at the pivotal moment of crying in frustration and despair, with arms stuck up in the air and red welts patterning my body.
So, obviously I was forced to hone my unique personal style in an alternate way, which is how I raided my sister and my dressing up box of our youth and turned it into my wardrobe.
Filled to the brim with cast offs of my mother, various aunts and my Nana, it truly was a great place to hone granny chic long before it was acceptable. My grandmother kept her clothes so well, I still rock a little sherbet-lemon sweater and tweed pencil skirt number – Joan Harris could learn a thing or two from me, that’s for sure.
Both TM and I will be returning to this subject in future posts. In my unparalleled experience it’s worth hanging on to beloved pieces; clothes, shoes, accessories that have a certain something, things you have an inkling that you’ll return to some day – but at all costs avoid ending up like this!
A questionable 80s sequin jacket is one thing, that Network 2 t-shirt you won in 2nd year is quite another!