Really, Karl? - Getting Some Perspective

This blog is going to be a rant of sorts, so if you're not feeling up to it, click away now.

The sad news of Karl Lagerfield's death was announced last week. He was certainly a talented designer, no question of that. One of the things about him mentioned in a potted obituary was that, aged about 4 years old, he requested a valet. Really, Karl?? His cat, Choupette is worth millions as is his estate.  Well done, Karl Lagerfeld.

I have to contrast this world of luxury, fashion and undoubted talent with, for example, Leyla Hussein, a leading campaigner against female genital mutilation (FMG) and all the work she does for this cause. She cares.

Take Emma Sky, a British Council employee, who volunteered to help rebuild Iraq and ended up governing a province. She became adviser to General Ray Odierno from 2007-2010. Her novel In a Time of Monsters: Travels through a Middle East in Revolt is out now (Atlantic). She also cares.

David Nott has just published his memoir War Doctor (Picador). He has spent over 25 years operating on victims in some of the worst war zones in the world with very few resources to help them or him, as a volunteer for the Red Cross and MSF (Medecins sans Frontieres). He is also an NHS consultant in London. He cares.

Having read articles on all of the above over the weekend, I had to sit down and ask myself how I would like to be remembered? I think you will have guessed the answer.

A time to slow down

I have just been reading in the the Sunday Times Style magazine about Joan Burstein who is the founder of Browns boutique and who, at the age of 90, has no intention of slowing down.  I have to salute this lady from the bottom of my (retired) heart. She was one of the first fashion scouts in the industry and with her eye for what constitutes style quickly became successful.

In the magazine she gives her guide to "looking fabulous at 90".  Most of her tips are commonsense but my favourite is "avoid mirrors".  Now that, dear readers, is something I would dearly like to be able to do.  Who hasn't bought a wonderful dress and gloated over it as it hung in the wardrobe only to put it on for that very special occasion and then catch sight of oneself in an honest mirror.  I say honest mirror because I reckon the ones in fitting rooms are not.  Of course, if you have the ideal body (which I have not) then you will look great in most clothes - that old t-shirt, those skinny jeans, that beautiful black dress.  So the best thing to do is not to look -  "avoid mirrors" as Joan Burstein so wisely says.  I once had a work colleague who would sometimes say "that's a beautiful dress - I know a girl who would look good in that."   Endearing kind of guy you might think but actually he was OK just a teeny bit insensitive.  I used to laugh but then I'd catch myself checking it out in a full-length mirror and reluctantly admitting that maybe this wasn't right for me.  It took me many years to realise how silly this was and develop a thick skin (as opposed to developing the body of a catwalk model).

Nowadays I buy and wear what I feel like.  I've made a few - quite a few - bad purchases, if you can call them that, and have accordingly traipsed around to the charity shops to donate them, so I reckon somebody gets the benefit. Let's face it, it's not the end of the world if what you're wearing would look better on a clothes-shop dummy.  People who are interested in you will look at your face, watch your eyes.   Would you prefer somebody to be pleased to see you or pleased that you're wearing Dior??   Gaylord Hauser I think it was who wrote that everyone is beautiful when they smile.  Not a bad motto  -  "Here's looking at you, kid."

Knitted Bikinis

I've always liked clothes without ever really keeping to the latest trends, except of course when I was in my teens and early twenties when I decked out in flared trousers and tie-dyed t-shirts. If my memory serves me right, there wasn't much to chose from in those far off days, either you morphed into a Jackie Kennedy lookalike complete with pillbox hat or you were a Woodstock type or you wore The Mini Skirt.  I know I liked the hippie look because it gave me a sense of freedom which I guess we were all looking for in the late 60's and early 70's.
When I got married I had to budget and all that fashion just passed me by for a good few years.  I looked at price tags and not at designer labels.  Most of the time I prowled the shops for children's clothes which were a) indestructible and b) affordable.  If I'd heard of Jimmy Choo I would probably have thought it was some kind of inflatable rubber duck for children's bathtime.
Nowadays I indulge in reading fashion magazines because I just love the language of fashion.  This week I spotted a knitted bikini advertised in one of the Sunday newspaper supplements.  The model was sitting on a stool wearing a pearl necklace and earrings and white sandals.  The bikini itself (with a price tag of £425) was black trimmed with white.  One item on the floor beside the model caught my attention :  a blush clutch.  A blush clutch conjures up all sorts of sophisticated things like the red carpet at Cannes, where it is just the thing to have with you should you fall out of your dress or do an Eva Longoria and lift your skirt too high.  You can also choose from an apple or pear clutch or a metallic one. Sounds incredibly romantic.  Either way I'm pretty sure that a knitted bikini isn't going to get further than a sun lounger, clutch or not. 
Of course fashion as we know it is not for me. After two children and more chocolate intake than the confectionery section of Harrods, I can only admire from a respectful distance.  I still love clothes.  I see them as good friends who'll cover up for me.  And I don't feel the need or the capability of wearing the latest trends.  That's one of the comforts of not being the youngest at the ball.