They say the most beautiful women in the world come from New York, Paris and Milan. I'm going to put my two pence in and say the most beautifully dressed women in the world are in London. Everybody except me that is.
One of the first things I noticed about Londoners, the women in particular, are how well-coiffed they are. Dressed to the nines. Extremely well accesorised. Not necessarily trendy or cutting-edge. Just very well styled. I feel positively frumpy around them.
But that is about to change. After an estimated nine months of starvation- and by starvation I mean shopping starvation- I have decided I am going to binge. And by binge I mean absolutely purge everything I own and start again. No holes, no stains, no fraying and definitely no weird suitcase smell. Everything must be new.
I'm so excited by this decision that I've visited Topshop twice in two days. I'm like an addict, hovering on the brink of a relapse. I walk past the entrance and think, 'Oh no, I'll wait until I have some more money and then I can spend a whole afternoon here.'
Then I double back. And I look through the doors. It's just purses on display. I can look at purses, can't I? And then purses turn into accesories and then accesories into shoes, and then shoes into underwear and then before I know it I've careerned my way through the store like a wide-eyed maniac and located the holy grail of all things beautiful and chic. My god, this afternoon I went so far as to cart five different items into the changing rooms. Thank god that I'd eaten so much pasta and gelato in Italy that I've become fat and couldn't fit into any of it.
It did make my resolve stronger though and now I have it all planned. Topshop have personal shoppers that will style your autumn wardrobe for free. (How ironic that I'm planning the splurge of a lifetime, yet I'm excited that the shopper will be a bargain.) I've decided that I simply must have a personal shopper. Sure, I could do it myself and keep the humiliation of not being able to fit into anything to a minimum. But I need a person. One of those weird fashion types that just looks at you and knows exactly what you need. The kind who throw really ugly items at you that somehow wind up looking amazing once you've got them on.
Whoever they are will need some serious stamina. Because when I mean wardrobe overhaul I mean serious overhaul. I need belts, and purses, and coats, and jackets, and scarves, and dresses, and jeans, and casual clothes, and going out clothes, and going to work clothes, and apartment pants. I'm shaking just thinking about it.
And when will this splendid event occur? Just as soon as I have a job. Employment. (Rolls eyes.) Some bloody money, in other words. It shall be a reward for months, years even, of positively grooming myself not to spend a dime. A pivotal step in the whole life make-over one might say. After that, all I'll need is a bicycle and a Portobello Road home filled with antiques and my transition will be complete.
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