It was a day of two skirts.
Skirt 1, a red Principles skirt, with black Woolovers cashmere V-neck. Clarks heeled lace-ups.
I haven't been out for about three weeks. Unless you count two visits to the doctors' surgery, one to the optician (all lurgy-related) and a routine biennial mammogram. I don't count those as "out". I associate "out" with hair done, the slap on, and perhaps a modicum of thought given to my attire. Those four "outings" did not fit my criteria.
The Photographer, bless him, unsuccessfully attempted to take me out to afternoon tea yesterday. Undeterred, he tried again today with a lunch. After several attempts getting to find a restaurant/bar that had a free table for two we finally found one that could actually fit in our two bodies. Didn't realise that with the many restaurants on the island, this impromptu idea would be so difficult to fulfil. But we got there, so all was good.
The Photographer sporting his Christmas pressie jumper and his Birthday pressie Uniqlo Light Down jacket; his seafood platter.
And here's the thing,
we I decided that for this special first-time-in-three-weeks outing I should be driven like a lady, in The Posh Car. Posh being The Photographer's sleek Peugeot 508 estate with leather the upholstery and all the bells and whistles.
And it was me who decided that after I nipped out for a newspaper on the drive home that I should show The Photographer how I could get into the car "like a lady". You know, the way we were taught back in the 60s, when mini skirts presented a challenge to our modesty, video here.
I showed him my technique, pretty smooth actually (without the recommended guiding hand and pashmina). Then rrriiiiipppppppppp. I heard my skirt rip, up the back seam - forget the kick slit, I could now do the splits in the skirt (oh I wish)! What I hadn't thought through was how cars have changed in 50 years. They are lower. And deeper. My moves weren't conducive with such a drop to the seat. I fell plonkingly into the sleek seat, rather than smoothly gliding.
I had used the method designed to work with 60s seats. Designed for a Triumph Herald.
So this is what I did when I returned home.
I changed! Into Skirt 2. Grey.
And that, dear reader, was The Disastrous Finale to my week in Red, black and occasionally white. And at the last hurdle, grey