Days 7-11 following a serious lack of connectivity

Firstly, apologies that I have been so tardy in my blogging this week. It has been more than a little action packed and wifi connections have been few and far between. Whilst I accept that not having shared my experiences for almost a week is pretty rubbish for a blog which is only 3 weeks old, I am sad to think that some people (you know who you are) thought this absenteeism was due to failure. Those who know me surely know I am nothing if not stubborn and that I will not fail.

And so to the week. It has passed as mentioned in a blur of activity. Tuesday was stresstastic and, embarassingly the day after blogging about increasing levels of photo fear, I failed to have my photo taken (oopsy). However I quickly regained control of myself and have had a photo taken everyday since.

Thursday was quite a day and saw the first serious challenge to my task. Following a day with clients, I and the team got ready for sports day. One may imagine this to be a charming affair but lest the summer breezze carried more than a whiff of competition as the sporting event of the year whipped up a frenzy in the office. All of a sudden I and my colleagues were presented with....team outfits. Ermmmmm panic ensued as I considered (fleetingly) explaining why I couldn't wear a leopard print stetson and team t-shirt. This was quickly evicted from my conscious mind on a number of counts;

1. Career suicide
2. There was a best dressed team award and I do not like to lose.
3. Everyone needs a leopard print stetson in their life....don't they?

NB we did win best dressed but despite multidisciplinary champion Denise Lewis issuing Olympian advice on the quality of the 3 legged race knot I had tied, we came last in our actual event.

And so the vault was born. An legendary place in which all items of clothing accidentally acquired between now and the 1st July 2011 will be stowed. Currently this vault is the boot of my Rich's car although I will soon be forced to consider a more permanent residence for treasured yet forbidden items when said stetson is retrieved. Although this was not a problem that I had considered in the settting up of Hanger Strike, it strikes me that this may be a relatively common debacle. Only yesterday I was forced to shun Company magazine for offering me a free t-shirt with my purchase......hmph.

Day 8: I have no idea why I look so alarmed.

The best dressed team at sports day.

In the hive of activity which was the weekend I ventured no where near a shop, a veritable victory for Hanger Strike and, interestingly, my challenge was relegated to the back of my mind during indulgence in super amounts of fun in the lovely town of Cheltenham.

Day 9...extraordinarily excited about the weekend ahead, celebrating in my granny cardi from the ever faithful M&S.

Day 10: A beer festival in the loverly Cheltenham, Topshop maxi, some heart sunnies and my fave partner in crime....AWESOME

This is my official Day 10 picture courtesy of the loverly Square Jim! What a marvellous chap!

Day 11: A BBQ on a hill Abercrombie shorts and the perfection of my frisbee technique....not a shopping related thought in sight.

So there we have it, a week of fun. But fear not, as the weekend wound on, wifi free, I did not cease my relentless clothes related ponderings. Spending the weekend in a different city is never fails to fascinate, only 119 miles away (according to my trusty TomTom) yet a million miles away from Manchester in the fashion stakes. The North South divide exists not only in culture but also in style. That is not to say that one is superior to the other, but it is astounding how such a small distance can give rise to such a vast chasm of ideals.

The North, a land plagued by a distinct lack of reliable sunshine, is an area in which fake tan and the sun bed reigns supreme. My lack of tan, or general lack of pigmentation is the foundation of many a firm stare when I dare step out bare legged. Down in the South, the sun is plentiful and the tans are light but real.

Similarly, the styles of the towns are as different as the retail outlets of their streets. Manchester is filled with high fashion, glitter and LBD's galore, the Nam on the flip side sports an array of high end casual retailers. Jack Wills takes centre stage alongside Joules and Cath Kidston as leggy young girls sport natural tans in shorts and gilets. If one transplanted oneself to the streets of Manchester you would find similar groups of girls, looking similarly stylish yet diametrically opposed in harem pants and glads with a smattering of well placed maxi's and considerably more bangles.

How strange that it may be possible to successfully guess at an individual's hometown merely from the style choices that she makes. I am tempted to hypothesise that we are subtlely displaying not just our personality but our origins within the choices that we make. I wonder if I could do a science experiment about that!!! Ooh how exciting