Strops and Stilettos 11

As highlighted last week I have embarked upon serious summer-garb research. Here is the thing about working at a place like this, we are all victims de fash. Notably this means one thing: there will be maybe three HOT sun dresses on the high street. Approximately the WHOLE office will have at least one of them. This means that it is a time ticking stand off as to who will source the best one first, and then most importantly CALL IT. The way to call it – wearing it first. If you wear it second you lose – and third? Don’t even think about it. Maybe you have said HOT FROCK in your wardrobe, maybe you got it WEEKS ago, but now the sun has sprung and we are all thinking… could this be the day to premiere? But no one wants to look too eager-summer-beaver (and personally speaking I like to take a European attitude to seasonal dressing – in Milan they won’t shed their black wool overcoats until at least half way through May). So, the stand off begins. And if you don’t get in there first? You have to spend the WHOLE rest of the summer wearing ‘her’ dress. Can you imagine? For shame.

Another thing, looming heavily on my mind is my Glastonbury looks. I am currently flitting between excitement about going, and then mega heart palpitations about what on earth I will WEAR. For one, the hot-high-street-frock might cut it in the office (well as long as you win, obviously) but one simply cannot be busting out some mass-market ensemble at the Glast. So I must trawl some vintage, dust out the cupboard, re-form and re-load. It is a complete minefield. And then just as I thought 'OOOO, I know', I remembered ruining my favourite 60s hippy number last year at The Secret Garden Party, which I am still heart broken over. Could it be salvageable?? Say it’s so, oh please can it be saved. Lord, I can hardly bare the strain and stress of it.  Some wonder I can get any work done at all with all this weighing on my mind.

Oh, ps. My hot tip for that high-street-hotness is ZARA. But I couldn’t possibly be anymore specific. Web pages have ears and all that. Shhhh, I must win, I must.