wear
There are two types of day, clothes-wise: days when it takes you five minutes to pick out your outfit and get dressed, and you feel fantastic all day, and days when you ponder half a dozen choices for the best part of a missed lie-in, only to feel uncomfortable and frumpy all day.
Yesterday fell into the latter category. Judge for yourselves:- Shirt: white Gap button-down Big Oxford (via Help The Aged). Big Big Oxford. Still a ghastly greyish off-white (that only I seem to notice) after several machines at 90C. Hugely balooning out of trousers.
- Tie: Zara sales one pound ninety-nine pence, 100% cotton. Although freshly ironed this morning (yes, ironed, that was a first for me too!), still visibly wrinkled.
- Belt: brown army surplus from Laurence Corner. Aged thick leather that has been supporting me through four different holes (waist size 36 to 31 to 34 back to 36 then back down to 33) over the past decade. Clashes in a very non-postmodern kind of way with the rest of the outfit.
- Trousers: beige corduroy chinos-cut, Gap again (via Cancer Research UK). I keep forgetting that corduroy adds at least ten pounds. Per buttock. Plus, they are ever so slighly too short, which together with my size 11 shoes gives that particularly amusing Bozo the clown look.
- Aforementioned shoes: useful and versatile yet boring Clarks brown uninspiring lace-up… shoes. They do the job, nothing less, nothing more.
My Italian nature made me fixate on it all day. My British casualness took over and made me shrug it off and cherish life in sartorially-relaxed England.