Day 182: 2011 is coming

As promised I plan to be better at blogging in 2011 but unfortunately forgot to have my photo taken on day 180. Ahem. I went to Newcastle to meet my bestest and wore pretty much the same as day 182 though so fear not, you are missing nothing.

Day 181: Ready to leave the frozen North in my holiest jeans and a battered pair of boots.

I have a few bits and bobs that I have been mulling over in the last couple of days. I have one confession to make. I need to discuss the fact that I bought something a bit ago. Now, before you go yelling at me, this was a matter of professionalism. Following my post about Christmas parties I feel I must come clean and admit that over the festive period I was obliged to buy a Christmas jumper for a client party. Having spent some time considering whether I should attend at all and secondly whether I should make purchase, I came to the conclusion that it would be difficult to avoid taking a Christmas jumper to a Christmas jumper party. As it turned out my extraordinarily bad taste affair, purchased from Topman vintage saved me from hypothermia aboard a Thames boat cruise. Phew. Following the party I have stashed the offending item at the back of my wardrobe and haven't adorned myself with it since. This is partly due to Hanger Strike guilt but mostly borne from self respect. Please see photographic evidence below.

Myself and Dougan sporting our lovely jumpers pre party. 

As you can see this is hardly something one would covet and I was most displeased to be forced to falter for such a horrific item. I had hoped that any failure in my year would be for something entirely delectable rather than a piece of 1970 knit the texture of coarse sandpaper. Sigh.

Moving on from this confession I must take you through my days pondering. I appear to be feeling somewhat melancholy about the whole no shopping thing at present. I can only put this down to my forced exposure to shops during the festive period. Despite the suggestion by early blog supporters that shopping for other people would be an outlet for my inner demons, it appears that the opposite is true. Buying stuff for others is self harm and I was never the sort to enjoy pain, self inflicted or otherwise. I actually felt a true sense of loss in H&M the other day whilst looking at shirts for my brothers. The sheer quantity of knitwear was quite overwhelming, I shared a poignant moment of connection with a navy jumper dress and was forced to leave it behind me, hideously aware that it might be bought by some dimwitted fashion retard who would never appreciate for what it could truly be. I'm sure you too can understand how hard this was. Or, maybe not.

Regardless, I have certainly felt deepening levels of distress over the last couple of weeks and am beginning to become truly concerned as I wend my way into the second half of my strike. I genuinely wonder if I can actually make it and not end up looking like some sort of tramp. I crave black skinny jeans that have yet to fade, shoes with soles and (ideally) a crisp white shirt dress to see in the Spring As I peer into the depths of my wardrobe it seems that there is less and less there, dresses are old, distressed is becoming holey, black is now faded, socks are just gone..... Something needs to be done and fast.

I have chewed this problem over during the Christmas period and arrived at a conclusion. In order to continue with my quest without the need for Valium I need to view my belongings with new eyes, to don a set of virtual glasses and to think harder about my approach to 'my look'. Over the next few days I plan to approach the dilemma of aging attire with a new maturity, to reassess the possibilities that lay before me and to reconstruct my wardrobe in a new way.

Watch this space for a new take on Boothington's cupboard!