Showing posts with label Shoes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Shoes. Show all posts

Tuesday, 3 August 2010


Oh my god, it's stunning!  Who is that woman in the mirror? The one with the great legs and the fabulous figure which goes in and out in all the right places?  How can a dress do that?  It was the perfect summer shift dress, the one I've had half an eye out for all summer and here it was in the sale in the local posh frock shop.  It just sort of slipped itself on and fitted like a dream. 

I had come into the nearby small market town for a quick trip to the dentist to fix my loose crown before the wedding in Kent. I didn't really need a new dress at all, but then who ever does?  There are plenty of previous years' lapses in the wardrobe which would more than cover the occasion, but there's something about a new dress teamed with three inch heels and a pashmina...

So, just a quick trip next door to make an appointment with the spray tan lady - those white legs could certainly do with some help - then back home to do unexpected things to myself, like depilate, exfoliate and moisturise all over, most of which I have managed to get through life quite happily without until now, but apparently crucial to giving the tan a chance to take.  You certainly need time and money in bucket loads to be beautiful, or even in with a chance, I realised.

My partner did a double-take when I walked into the room, looking for once like the woman I would like to be. Sadly this will not happen very often, as the credit card bill will soon land on the doorstep and the consequences will have to be faced. 

Still, I enjoyed pulling out all the stops for once... and I thoroughly enjoyed my friend's wedding Sometimes you just have to go for it!

Sunday, 27 May 2007

Staff Parking

The School Registrar swept past me into the staff car park with a brief wave of her hand. I turned and watched her expertly reversing her 25 year old canvas-topped, long-wheel-base Land Rover into a free parking space.

She descended briskly from the battered, mud-splattered vehicle, long blond hair swept into a neat chignon, tailored jacket and knee length skirt, pearl studs and necklace, kitten heels tip-tapping on the tarmac.

We stopped for a moment to admire her new wheels. A present, she said, from her husband, ideal apparently for towing a horse box, and she initiated me into the mysteries of double de-clutching and the necessity of always keeping a waterproof hat in the glove compartment in case it rains inside the cab!

"There is nothing" I said, "more stylish than a beaten up old Land Rover. With heels."