Dress Code

It doesn't matter whether you're sashaying down the red carpet in Hollywood or stepping out the front door, sometimes it is possible to miss the dress code altogether. As I cleared a pile of correspondence yesterday evening, I spotted a discrete dress code guide given on an invitation to an event the other half and I attended on Saturday. Perhaps through sheer luck rather than judgement I think we managed to cover the 'Smart Casual' suggested, combining thermal underwear with smarter than usual outer garments and leaving the worn boots and ripped jackets at home!

Oscar frocks and hairdos were apparently only a hit this year if described as 'sick'. I'm doubtless naive in this regard, but it would take a brave reporter to suggest to Russell Crowe that his tuxedo was 'sick'. Whoever began this trend has clearly never spent enough time in the company of either a party of teens or young babies; but then in La-la land they probably never eat or drink enough to be sick!

I think my dress code yesterday must have been frustrated by the images (albeit described on the radio) of the great and the good of the film world in their long frocks and slick - or sick - accessories. I dressed for warmth - see the wonderful Valley Garden Paradise blog, it isn't only the plants that are waiting for spring I can assure you! - and settled down to work, wool blanket wrapped around my legs, endless cups of hot tea and the odd heated cushion when the wind really howled through the house. Come the afternoon and an inability to shake of that morose Monday mood, I grabbed my swimming kit and headed for the sports centre. It was only as I stepped out of the car at the other end that I looked glanced down at my multi-layered approach and scuttled inside to change pronto.

Boots - scuffed and muddy; combination of age, thinking I can feed the chickens without changing to wellies as the ground has dried recently, and a continual assumption that this pair, at approximately 10 years old, is on its way to the recycling van anyway.
Socks - two pairs, one with holes, mercifully both hidden under -
Jeans - grabbed in the darkness of morning and not scrutinised since. Moss stains from leaning against the chicken coop (them again) and a general patina of worn age (much like self)
And then I ballooned outwards, the top half sporting:-
Thermal vest - once thought to be quite a sexy version with a pointelle finish and lacey edging, age has dictated otherwise
Shirt - ancient, but not too shabby
Thin jumper - found by moths two winters ago and holes all down the sleeves, covered with
Thick cardigan - holes under both arms and tatty ribbons hanging out below
Black gilet - a mere 8 years old and looking too thin for purpose; topped with
Purple cotton scarf bought on a boat in Turkey and worn as extra wrapping for the neck whilst writing

Luckily the fashion police weren't out in number, the word sick might have been used in its true sense!