A few days ago, in TK Maxx (where I barely even glanced a the pretty notebooks, I was so good) I found a lovely hardback book documenting the life of the world-renowned fashion designer Vivienne Westwood.

For some reason lately her name has cropped up a good few times so when I saw this book I was intrigued.

If you know me you may wonder why and I don’t blame you – I am no trend-setter or fashion-follower; half my clothes don’t match and if they do it’s usually by accident.

I was in my thirties before I discovered I had a long torso and shorter legs, meaning I should be wearing high-waisted jeans and shirts tucked-in and it was around the same time that I realized that with my petite boobies, plunging necklines just don’t work.

I spend half my time feeling as though I’m wearing the wrong clothes all day (even though I may have worn the exact same outfit on another occasion and felt a million dollars) and the other half wearing hoodies and yoga leggings, while the best hair-style I can manage is a messy bun.

To be fair, in so far as my hair goes, if I’m going out to something fancy (about once every two years), I’ll usually take the time to straighten it, but given I have a thick mane that would give the Lion King a run for his money, I have to singe it with my Remington to get it flat and even that usually only lasts about an hour.

I don’t wear make-up but if I do it’s minimal in the extreme: eye-liner, mascara and some eye-shadow.  I don’t even know what contour is (ok now I do, I just googled it).

Zits or no zits, my face goes nude 365 days of the year. Some may call it brave or lucky, I would go more for lazy.

At any rate, to return to my original point after a long fluffy ramble, I’m not quite your typical Vivienne Westwood fan, or Chanel or Prada or Louis Vuitton or any other exclusive designer label.

I’m even a bit of a hippie at heart.

But!

I do have a secret (well it won’t be after I share this) little ‘thing’ for the glamour and lush style of the fashion world.  It’s one of the reasons I love Paris so much, it’s why I enjoyed watching Sex in the City and it’s why I was drawn to the biography of Vivienne Westwood.

It’s not the fame or the money (maybe the money) but the sheer elegance and romance created around these huge brands and the whole world of fashion that I delight in.

The utter class and style of the chic lady strolling down the Rue de Rivoli or sitting outside a cute little cafe sipping on her espresso while smoking a long thin Marlboro, the epitome of what it is to be Parisienne.

Perhaps exactly because I am such a scatty mis-matched fashionista, I revel in the art that these true fashionistas create with their elegance and beauty.  Maybe I can’t quite match their incredible style but I can sit quietly beside them and soak up all the exquisite beauty and attention to detail that goes into creating such an image.

And so I’m going to go to bed now with my lovely hardback book of magic and leave my scraggly hair and hoodies behind and dream of Fashion Week in Paris, the glitz and the glamour, imagining myself there in the thick of it all… dressed in my leggings and fluffy socks and winter sweatshirt.

I might not look like Sarah Jessica Parker, but I’ll damn well be comfy!

Ciao darlings!

Lizzie xxxx