1 minute reading time (291 words)

Where's my fairy godmother?

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Next week I have a posh evening do to go to. I hate going out at night – particularly at this time of year (too cold) and in London (last train home to the sticks known accurately as the vomit comet). But duty calls. And I know I’ll enjoy it when I get there.

Problem is Cinderella here does not have the clothes for a formal do. Nor, frankly, do I want to shell out and buy any. If I buy expensive clothes (and I’m not talking designer stuff – expensive is anything over £50 to me) then I want lots of usage out of it. That’s not going to happen with evening wear as I don’t plan to make a habit out of this new-found sociability. The only option is to dress down – but dress it up. I do risk being mistaken for a waiter but I’m going for head to toe black.

My unlikely lifestyle guru, Vogue editor Alexandra Shulman recommends black cashmere (www.theguardian.com/media/2016/oct/28/alexandra-shulman-vogue-editor-fashion-rules). So: £89 for a long black cashmere jumper from John Lewis (cheaper than M&S). Wear it twenty times and that comes down to a few pounds an outing. Of course, I could shrink it in the wash or one of the cats could set up home on it in which the cost per wear goes up.

Then I reckon all I need is industrial quantities of slap, majoring on the red lipstick (Alex Shulman again); dig out a necklace from somewhere and marker-pen over the scuffs on my elderly black heels and all done. I might borrow a statement handbag from a minted pal but otherwise, all done. And understated enough so I won’t attract the attention of the drunks on the train. Sorted.

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Friday, 24 May 2019