This week I’m going to see the gala showing of Kinky Boots at the aptly named Shoe Factory Social Club in Norwich. It got me thinking about my boot collection, which is more Komfy than Kinky.
I’ve been away. Not geographically this time, just somewhere…else.
Actually I’ve mainly been up a ladder, painting. I can highly recommend this for clearing headspace; weeks of emulsioning has helped me ‘regroup’ after a pretty tumultuous year.
I’ve moved house.
Three little words that sum up months of hard work, see-saw emotions and a lot of emulsion.
We swapped our rambling Edwardian house with half an acre for a newish soulless box.
I have forgotten what it’s like to be fat. When I tell people, they tend not to believe me. I don’t have any photos. I tore them up and consigned the memory to the past.
I’ve been calming a wild-eyed groom’s mother over what to wear to her son’s wedding. Even bigger panic as her Ex will be there with his latest ten-years-younger squeeze.
May in England; too hot for boots, too cold for sandals. I’m with you in thinking ‘What on earth do I put on my feet?’
I don’t ‘tell’ anyone what to wear. I’m not that kind of stylist. We’ve been around long enough to wear what we like. I guide and suggest, point out your great bits, show you how to dress like ‘you’. It’s up to you if you want to listen…