Shabby Chick
Aspasia (the editor of Marie Claire), Naomi (the editor of House And Leisure) and I had lunch recently. They were both, as usual, effortlessly gorgeous, fashionable and stylish. I, on the other hand, was the opposite. My US$45 Zara pants were unflattering and my top, which I had thought 'would do' when I snatched it out of my wardrobe that morning, suddenly looked more Miami Granny than up-to-the-second Urban Editrix.
I had no casually perfect accessories to 'finish off my look' and realised, as we entered the cool and fashionable restaurant, that I had only intended to brush my hair that morning. I hadn't actually got around to doing it.
As we finished our food and both of them whipped out their YSL-or-Dior-or-something-else-perfect lipsticks to reapply their flawless lip looks, I remembered that I hadn't actually applied any makeup for, oh, about six months. I was, I realised, a fashion 'don't'. Surrounded by 'do's'. For that reason only, I was delighted that Sam (the editor of O, The Oprah Magazine, always sleek and immaculate) was on holiday and unable to join us. Two fashion plates at lunch were enough for one shabby me.
By the time we all cleared our plates of the fashionable food, I was in a foul fashion-fail-induced mood. My Twitter feed offered no consolation. UK Elle's editor, @LorraineELLE, was tweeting endless descriptions of the couture she 'grabs' from her closet when rushing off to Paris or Milan. @janeGRAZIA was worried about what to wear for a lunch date with Victoria Beckham. @jo_elvin, the editor of UK Glamour, tweeted 'I am head to toe in "street" today. @MarkHeyes will be so proud.' I, of course, have no idea who @MarkHeyes is (I should know, I'm sure) and consider last year's British 'street' my very best, most expensive (and chic) outfits.
Sigh. I am a chick who buys her clothes, at a sprint, on her way to her supermarket dash. And while that means I am usually at least dressed, I cannot say I am ever well dressed. And I would quite like to be well dressed.
It's not necessarily that I want to be one of those women who just 'get' it, or who have enough money and connections to buy what they don't 'get'. I just don't want to feel as though I'm the Miami Granny at the table.
I could tell you that, after that lunch, I gave myself a little pep talk and told myself that clothes don't matter, that what's inside is all that counts. But of course I can't, and didn't, because it does matter.
As women, the way we present ourselves is a complicated and important component of our sense of wellbeing. And, of course, it isn't that every one of us suddenly has to look as marvellous as Aspasia and Naomi. What is important is that we like the way we look.
Women24's @SamWilson1, for example (bless her Converse All Stars), welcomes the changing of the fashion seasons by swapping her flip-flops for… Converse All Stars, and genuinely doesn't, I think, give her clothes another thought. Hurrah for her!
I'm a different creature altogether. I, like many of us, do feel better when I'm in something new and pretty that I like and that flatters me. It's just that I like art, reading books, cooking, drinking wine, hanging out with my friends and walking up the mountain very much more.
All of this leads me to think about balance, which, as I grow older, seems to me to be an increasingly important life secret. The truth is, if being quite as un-groomed as I was on that fashion-fail day interferes with what I really love doing (eating a happy lunch with two great girlfriends) then I can surely find a little more time to, at least, try to be a little better dressed.
I can do better!
Tomorrow, I vow to brush my hair.