Merely weeks – well, okay, fricking months – into my thirtieth year, I am already beginning to notice subtle changes in myself.
Until recently, my wardrobe contained few shirts beyond those horridly starchy stiff-of-collar ones you wear – or, more accurately, try to avoid wearing – to the office. Packing for a business trip to Frankfurt* last week, however, I realised that a new breed of shirt comprises part of my daily armour.
Mostly from Equipment – with a little Hamilton-Paris sprinkled into the mix – this second generation of blouse is tactile, womanly and luxuriant. Without risk of the matron, I can think of no better piece of clothing to demarcate my transition from girlhood – with, let’s not deny, that unfortunate blip of scruffy Pot-Noodle-eating studenthood inbetween – to womanhood.
My next investment will be this suede Joseph shirt.
I see it worn with J Brand Gigi’s or – should a lottery win prove forthcoming, please God – leather Balmain biker pants.
Or outrageously inappropriate for a woman not (quite) over the hill but climbing her way ever nearer the summit?
* Here, there, everywhere… yet, seemingly, I’m never on this bloody blog!