Wearing Pink

I heard about a blog post (debate) recently about women over 40 wearing pink. Apparently, we're not supposed to? Sorry, I missed that memo. Glad I'd already bought my pink cowboy boots (a steal at £26) and you know what? That's just fine with me. I'll wear pink boots if I want, and if a purple horse comes along, hey, I'll go for a ride! I'm from the 60s, after all. I would post the image of the boots (it's a good picture, take my word for it) but the computer is refusing to upload it. Pardon me while I go out and beat it senseless.

Queen for a Day

On Saturday, I got the chance to live like royalty. Well, actually to BE royalty for the day. I was part of a World War One re-enactment of King George V and Queen Mary reviewing the troops about to depart for the war in Europe. As part of the re-enactment, we (King George and I) got to make a grand, royal entrance by arriving in a vintage chaffeur driven Rolls Royce car. When we arrived at the church where George was to give his speech, our arrival was announced by the town crier and heralded by buglers trumpeting out a welcome for us. (Well, as a native of North America, I never thought I'd get that kind of experience!) I must say, even though it was all a drama and make-believe, I do find it wonderful to "get into character" and forget for the moment that it is not a real experience. Just a natural ham, me. Here I am as Queen Mary. (The present Queen Elizabeth's grandmother, for those who aren't sure who she is.)

The Queen and I

Ever felt like this? One more rainy day!

Apparently even Her Majesty can have enough of it.

One does find it so dreary.

Mothering Sunday

Last week it was Mothering Sunday in Britain. Or Mother's Day, as it is known in North America.

Theoretically, two different ways of saying the same thing and expressing the same sentiment.  Except that it isn't.  Mother's Day is a celebration and honoring of mothers.  Human mothers.

Mothering Sunday actually stems back to the tradition of people travelling once a year to their "mother  church".   Many young people who were "in service" (working as servants) were only allowed one day off a year and on that day visited their mothers and went back to their mother church.

Over the years, and also with the influence of North Ameican ideas, it evolved into Mother's Day.  Not that 98 per cent of British people realise the distinction, and it has become almost exclusively a celebration of the qualities of mothering. So much so that you're lucky to be to find a spot for lunch that day.

Lucky me, I got this bouquet of daffodils at church.  They kindly pass them out to all the women there, whether or not they technically qualify.

It's Almost a Hat

I forgot to mention in my post about the Isabella Blow exhibition that the reason I am having a photo of myself with a hat is that I am linking up with Judith Boyd's HAT ATTACK from her blog: stylecrone.com. I am going to try to do a link, but if it doesn't work, google www.stylecrone.com. www.stylecrone.com

 Judith, bless her, has the most fabulous taste in clothes and hats. Especially hats, and is single-handedly bringing hats back to life in this very century. You know, the one we live in!

 Here is my "almost a hat". It is actually a fake furry headband, but most people mistake it for a Cossack style hat.

Getting Dressed, oh no! It's so difficult!

When we were in London last week, I picked up a copy of the London Evening Standard (as you do.)  It was free, and I thought it might be interesting to find out what the pulse of the Big City is like, being a confirmed Country Bumpkin.  Didn't use to be such a Bumpkin, but 17 years living outside a huge city and you do view "the metropolis" differently than you do if you are in the thick of it every day.

Naturally, I went to the fashion page, to discover an article called "The Invisible Dress".  Apparently, this is what we all need to get through the work week.  We should wear a dress, because being just one piece, instead of separates, we can manage to put a look together.


Then there was a selection of quite pricey, quite baggy, non-descript clothes.  Victoria Beckham's shift dress was the most form-fitting, and at £1050, the priciest.

Now, my reaction to this news (that I must have a dress, or it will just be TOO DIFFICULT to get dressed) must come as a result of not being in Fashion Central.  But I did have to think, "if that is the most pressing thing you have to manage, perhaps you should give the work world a miss!"  I mean, really.

Isabella Blow Exhibition

Many people are fashionable, or wear their clothes well, but few can be truly be called a style icon. Isabella Blow, however, was one of those people whose wardrobe and flamboyant sense of style stopped the presses. Google www.somersethouse.org.uk to see photos. Working in various fashion magazines, most notably Vogue, Blow is credited with recognizing the talent of, and launching the careers of both Alexander McQueen and the milliner, Philip Treacy. Tracey, especially was to become a life-long friend, and his creations, more sculptural fantasy than hat, were to add visual pizzazz to a girl who was already well on her way to being "over the top", as they say here in England. So, I was particularly interested in seeing the exhibition, "Fashion Galore" which showcased pieces from the late Isabella Blow wardrobe. As a moth who seemed to fly too close to the flame, Blow committed suicide in 2007 at only 49. Would I be as bold? Only if I could!