A few days ago I stood in front of my wardrobe, stared blankly at the clothes looking back to me, and uttered those famous words:
‘I have NOTHING to wear.’
The difference between this time and every other occasion on which I’ve uttered that phrase (usually two glasses of white wine deep on a Saturday night, red in the face with every dress I own screwed up in a ball on the floor behind me) was that for once, it was true. I have just started a new job and I literally cannot seem to find a single thing to wear.
This seems to be occurring more and more - I just don’t know where to shop anymore. I cannot find a shop on the high street that caters for a working girl of 30 (and by working girl I mean a girl with a job, not a prostitute, which would actually be much simpler).