Monday, 21 September 2015

Changeover time?

I have just had a quick check on Facebook. It is not a place where I spend much time. Some days I forget to look even though I post a link to my blog on there.
But Facebook can sometimes be useful in the oddest of ways. It was today. There was a post by someone who has just spent some time changing her wardrobe from summer to winter. It reminded me that I should get out the short-sleeve t-shirts and iron them ready to wear.
My wardrobe is, I suppose, sparse. I work from home. I don't need "going to work" clothes. I wear jeans and t-shirts most of the time. I have good trousers for when I need to "dress up" a bit. I have a few shirts rather than blouses. I own one floral blouse - bought for me by Middle Cat who thought I should have "at least one thing like that". I have yet to wear it. A good many of my clothes are navy or blue. 
"Aren't you interested?!" Middle Cat has demanded from time to time. Coming from someone who wears t-shirts and tops with go-kart and V8 car racing on  them I think that is a bit much. 
Am I interested? I don't know. Not really. I don't prowl the shops looking for clothes unless I actually need something. 
There was a "dress shop" in our local shopping centre. I had to pass it to go into the supermarket. I got to know the woman who ran the quite well . She sometimes needed to leave the shop for a short time and would ask me to mind it. I would get paid with "staff discount" whenever I bought something - which was not often. I was about the unlikeliest person to be minding the shop. The owner lived in another state. If I answered the phone, as I sometimes had to do, and she was at the other end she eventually knew me and would ask, "Have we sold you a dress yet?"
No. I don't own a dress.
But the woman who ran the shop, G,  understood me and my clothing habits very well. If I needed something new I would tell her. She would think about it. I don't ever remember her producing something on the spot. It was more a matter of, "Wait. The boss is bringing the price of something  that might suit you down" or "There's something coming in soon that might be right."
I took her advice. She dressed with style. It wasn't my style but she knew style. She knew fabric and fit and fashion which lasted rather than dated.
She has been gone for years now but I still have things in my sparse wardrobe she recommended. They will probably last a few years yet. 
I wish she was around for other reasons too. She never once questioned my interest or lack of interest in clothes and she never once suggested I wear pink.
It is time to haul out the short-sleeve t-shirts and iron them.

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