Well I do have somewhere to go… Sardinia in April and I already have dresses that I want to wear out there. They are:

*Striped Sundress from Topshop

and

*Laura Lees Boat Dress also from Topshop

They are currently languishing in my wardrobe whilst I stick to my main staple of jeans and other other cosy items. I reeeeeally want to wear them now.

I probably could wear them now with some clever layering and thick tights, but I find the layered look does not suit me. I just don’t have the layering knack, and end up looking like someone who is into their second trimester and should be offered a seat on the tube! Not really the look I want. So in the mean time they remain unworn and just lovingly looked at and occasionally tried on .. again and again.

Fingers crossed for some warm weather in April.

I previously posted about how much I wanted this dress from Miss Selfridge.

Well I finally succumbed and went to try it on knowing full well that if I liked it, the chances of buying it would have greatly increased.

As it happens when I got into the changing room and put on the dress, my reaction was …. meh.
I was slightly underwhelmed by the whole the thing and the way it looked on me. Instead of feeling elated and already being flooded with ideas of what to wear it with, I felt nothing, just meh!

Actually I lie… I felt I looked a little like a deflated Violet Beauregarde, just without the blue face.

Today I am wearing a red leopard print dress from Urban Outfitters with a black cardi and layered over some jeans.

It basically looks like this, but with black leopard print all over. I love it!

I wore it because it was the first thing I saw in my wardrobe that was clean, and I thought I hadn’t worn it in a while, so why not.

Left the house thinking I looked presentable- not overly done up, not trampy - just right for work.

I got to work and settled down at my desk. A friend then came over and asked whether I had worn red today for Valentine’s day.

Poop!! With a capital P.

I hadn’t even thought about that. Urrrrggghhh. Now people are going to think I’m really into Valentine’s and dressed up for the occasion.

I’ll say it again. Poop.

Other than my usual daily dressing dilemmas, this year I am getting married and so have had to face the biggest What should I wear panic. I use the past tense ‘had’ as I have bought my dress , the dress. I managed to pick one up at the end of last year in a wedding dress sample sale, and I am glad it is out of the way; one less decision to make.

Choosing my wedding dress was not easy. Trying to decide whether I should go for modern or traditional, how much I should spend, where to buy it from… I looked at magazines and websites for inspiration, and for a while this was my dream dress: Elie By Elie Saab at Pronovias
The £5000+ price tag was a tiny bit out of my price range, and so helped me make my decision. I decided maybe sample sales would be a good place to find a gorgeous dress at an equally lovely price.

Anyway the sample sale was held at a hotel, and I didn’t really know what to expect. It was timed entry and so I turned up at my allotted time of 5:00pm, along without about 30+ other girls and waited patiently in line.

When we were finally allowed in, the brides to be were given instructions on what was to follow: you would be measured and told what size dress to go for, go into the rooms filled with dresses and choose five to try on, lastly go and try them on in the hope that one of your five chosen dresses would be your wedding dress. Sounds simple and it was.

The part that I didn’t like though was the part where she said, once you were measured you should choose a size UP from what you normally wear. What?!? Why?!? Apparently, it was nothing to worry about and was just the way designers cut the dresses, it didn’t mean anything.

How can she say ‘not mean anything’? Of course it meant something. In 30 seconds I would have gained a dress size, without even having had the pleasure of eating something delicious.

I know there has been all the talk on the high street about vanity sizing, things being cut larger to make you think you are slimmer than you are. You would think that would be a good principle to apply to wedding dresses; obviously not!

So with my new ‘larger’ dress size I begrudgingly went to look at my plus sized rail thinking all I would find were sequin covered sacks. To my surprise I found three that didn’t repulse me or look like Liberace cast offs and headed for the changing room. I found this was actually just one big communal changing room with lots of semi-naked brides-to-be. More trauma.

Needless to say one of the dresses I picked turned out to be the ‘one’. It looked a lot nicer on than it did on the hanger, and looking back I was  too quick to judge. I put it down to the shock of going a size up. Now all it needs is some altering to make it fit properly in the right places,  and I can’t wait to finally wear it.

Now all I need is some shoes!

It’s been a long time coming, but today is the day I am going to tackle my wardrobe. I am going to separate the things I actually wear from the things that are just taking up space. Hopefully this should make trying to decide what to wear in the morning slightly easier.

I might even uncover some buried treasure, or inspiration on new ways to pair and wear things. Here’s hoping.

If I end up chucking most things, I can always use it as an excuse to buy more stuff!!

Damn it. I’ve got an itch to shop and it needs to be scratched.
Tiny problem though - no cash.

Then like a cartoon lightbulb going on over my head, I remembered I had a French Connection credit note waiting to be spent.
Tiny problem - can’t bleedin’ find it!!

Arrrrrrgggggh!

That’s it. It is officially splitsville for me and my favourite (read only) black pair of skinny jeans.
I am slightly annoyed because the thought of going out to buy another pair fills me with dread. I hate jeans shopping!
The thought of trying on pair after pair that will only pull up to around my calfs is slightly disheartening. Plus facing the unflattering light and confined space of fitting rooms is just too much to bear.

Now don’t get me wrong, I am not getting rid of them because I no longer want them, but because the other evening I unceremoniously split them. Not with my lard ass either I’ll have you know.
I accidentally spilt some drink on the floor at home and obviously had to clean it up, so I went to kneel but couldn’t be bothered to get on both knees and well… I can’t explain exactly, but the point is they split.

After a short burst of expletives, I came to terms with the split and moved on.

Now my mission is to replace my black jeans; wish me luck.