Yesterday Pierrette came over for our bi-annual clothes fest - stocking up for Autumn and Winter. She's my clothes lady who I first met at the La Paillade flea market. It's quite ghastly though, fighting your way through crowds of unsavoury people, and it's even worse when you have a stall, trying to keep those unsavoury elements from nicking your stock.
In the end, the combined hassle of trying things on in public plus my general dislike of such places led her to suggest she come with her bags of goodies to my house where I could sift through and try on in comfort.
The next obvious thing to do was to ask a small number of mates round to join in. Small because of available space and to keep things brawl-free... Luckily we are different either in size or personal taste so we rarely find that two people want the same item, and if we do, as it's my house, I get first refusal.
Pierrette arrived at 4pm, her car ladened to the hilt with bags of stuff. It being winter stock, there was less actual stuff but it was bulky. Bags of jackets, warm pullies, coats, boots, bags and other delectable goodies. She herself is as skinny as a rake but vital and full of energy. She's turning sixty, but you'd never think it to look at how she dresses, and yet she doesn't look either, like mutton dressed as lamb. What makes her such fun to be with is that she loves clothes, loves finding clothes for others, and then makes you aware of your possibilities.
It's so easy to get stuck in a style, especially when you don't have much money, or even when you have a lot of money. Style is also a social statement, so your clothes can declare your social status if you want them to. That's way too much effort for me. So is keeping up with fashion, which is also too expensive an occupation.
Pierrette knows the type of clothes I like - not too fussy, no frills, lace or other overtly girly stuff; can be sexy but not slutty (natch), striking, classy and fairly strict. I don't really like wearing skirts any more, but do wear dresses. One of my favourite winter looks when I was in my late 20s was short tartan skirt, black pullover with pearl necklace, thick black tights and low black shoes. I'm most sorry I haven't been able to carry that look off for years.
Yesterday's haul included 8 pullovers, a pair of snazzy black-ish jeans, shirt, denim jacket, sexy long glittery dress, pair of incredibly high camel-coloured lace-up boots and a small selection of belts. My mates went off with pairs of very chic shoes, back-pack leather bag, skirts, blouses and blue jeans. We were all very pleased with ourselves, the prices that we had paid for our new looks, and the jolly time we'd spent in our undies trying everything on and getting each other's advice.
Yes, à la our Helena, my undies - or should I say 'lingerie' - was matching, my legs were smooth and my bikini line clean. I could cavort without shame.
Pierrette stayed for 3 hours after which I made supper for a surprising number of children, sneaking a rather yummy leek sauce onto spaghetti without anyone realising they were eating leeks and thus declare it disgusting, and then collapsed in front of the tele to watch 'Casino Royale'. Daniel Craig in his cozzie coming out of the sea. Well worth watching rien que pour ça!