S.O.S...

Dear Wardrobe,

Drastic times, call for drastic measures. I've assessed the situation, and yes, it would appear we have nothing to wear. Or rather, nothing I want to wear, such are the nature of seasons and the endless cycles of winter/early spring wear. The last 6 months of wearing variations on a theme mean that now, my sweet wardrobe, you and I are barely on speaking terms. There is nothing for it, to London we must go. Try to be brave, little one. We will cull upon our return, by culling; I mean picking everything up off the bedroom floor I have just spent the last half an hour having a tantrum over. I even declared some of my favourite pieces useless and threatened them with wire coat hangers, dreadful, shameful, behaviour, I know. I can hear Joan Crawford in the background somewhere. She says I'm making her nervous, she's telling me I'm making her miss Bette.

Hopefully the God's of wanting stuff other people no longer want, (yes they exist, on a beautiful mountain next door to Olympus if you must know, they do a lovely line in second hand toga's and custom headbands) will smile favourably upon us and we can go back to being friends. In the meantime, I am bringing the bare minimum with me on my mini break in the hope that necessity, truly is the mother of invention...

Yours sincerely,