Day 51 to 54

So this weekend was about chilling out, not fashion and that suited me marvellously, I stayed with my lovely friend Chloe at her equally lovely parents' house in sunny (or not quite so sunny) Buckinghamshire and met Bramble the puppy. Heels were replaced with Hunters as we spent a weekend thinking about many things apart from clothes.

A practical friday outfit constructed for comfortable, practical post work driving. Highly compatible with my Friday mindset.

Saturday was most excellent and included a little stroll with Bramble the puppy in the post lunch, post Pimms lull. As I bumbled about in an outfit designed for comfort above style I found myself remembering the girl I used to be before I met the city. I was, at one with a pair of wellies and almost constantly covered in a liberal splattering of mud. I fed my horse before school and didn't really care about fashion, in fact I was rather anti impractical clothing. I only owned one pair of heels and in all honesty I really didn't care, in fact, I was happy. Strange, I know.

Me and my wellies reunited in a squelchy field. Note the mismatched yet comfortable outfit......

I suppose it was the momentous move to university that educated me in the ways of the world and the wonder of fashion. I soon learnt that practical is no fun at all and that all the best dancing is done in vertiginous heels. My subsequent returns home  for holidays and revision periods were punctuated with dramatic shoe based events as I attempted to integrate my new wardrobe in my old life. Note to self, even chunky heels cannot be worn to walk across fields.

Although for the most part I now regard myself as a city girl, I do on occasions such as this weekend, love to indulge in a bit of countryside based R&R. In small doses it is quite the thing for raising the spirits. This weekend the peace of the Buckinghamshire garden I sat in allowed me a little time to ponder how I have changed over the years. Almost definitely the old me would have sniffed loudly at my blog and made sniping comments centred around 'city idiots without a clue'. The truth is in the country, being well dressed is a different game to that of the city. It is based upon practicality and comfort as opposed to aesthetic and beauty, potentially driven by the unpredictabilty of terrain out in the fields. I don't for a minute wish to imply that those out beyond the suburbs are badly dressed, this is absolutely not the case. However interestingly it seems to me that style trumps fashion statement on a far more regular basis as the concrete to mud ratio alters in favour of the latter.

One can only wonder what would have happened to me if I had never left for the bright lights.

Day 54: Me back to the city life on Monday (I forgot to have my picture taken on Sunday)