Days 63 to 65, a blog that brings people together

This week I have been chatting to lots of my boy mates about my blog. The upshot appears to be that the majority of men don't quite grasp what all of the fuss is about. In fact many feel they have been inadvertently partaking in a Hanger Strike of their own for years. Deiniol is convinced he hasn't bought a single item since him and I went shopping in Liverpool One about 18 months ago and James confidently confessed that he doesn't really understand having bought no new clothes for quite some time. Chris (known to many as Filthy) sent me a little facebook message to tell me he has found, read and reportedly enjoyed my blog but that he is one of many men who has been studiously avoiding the high street for eons. In fact he confesses to owning more clothes bought by his girlfriend and mother than clothes bought for himself.

Despite widespread scoffing from the male of the species, I have also been heartened to see that some men view my challenge with levels of alarm, not disimilar to that seen by the women in my life. One or two have straight out confessed that they couldn't do what I am attempting and others have expressed doubt that it is in any way a sensible or achieveable goal.

All of this got me thinking about the gulf that exists between the genders where clothes are concerned. Whilst of course many men are incredibly concerned with their appearence and spend as many hours as girls constructing the perfect look, there are more who find the entire rigmoral unfathomably confusing. They seem utterly nonplussed by the proportion of a women's life dedicated to the fabric within her closet. They are, it seem unable to comprehend the importance of the days outfit and the hallowed turf of the street style pages. In fact many claim not to care about clothes in the slightest and do not wish to devote a mere moment, a teensy ounce of stress to the construction of a classic look. I wonder why it is we are so different, why there is such a chasm between the sexes, and quite frighteningly, what would happen if men were in charge of what women wore.......I suspect the results would be quite the talking point for all concerned.
Regardless of their inability to comprehend my challenge on a personal level, the guys do seem to understand that this is not an easy task for a girl like me and the odd one has confessed a level of concern that I won't have any new shoes for some time. I too feel worried about the lack of shoe shopping available to me but suspect the concerns of these individuals had little to do with my personal happiness and inner peace. Enough said.

Day 63: a black dress for a client meeting and a pair of legs whiter than the snows of Hoth....Pale may be the new tan for Nicola Roberts but I feel the need to reach for the fake bake. PS no idea why this is so out of focus.

 Hearteningly, many of the guys do still seem to be following my ramblings as weeks turn to months. In fact, my blog has inadvertently rekindled the fires of a dormant friendship. As Deiniol and Filthy both found themselves engrossed in the literary epic that is Hanger Strike (ahem) they realised that they work around the corner from each other and now they are going to have a beer and discuss the varied merits of teaching English in Birmingham. I therefore declare it official that style brings people together, seemingly it's power knows no bounds.

Day 64: Black skinnes, boots and a classic piece of Hollister to welcome the first week of September 2010 into my life.

Some old but faithful Primani jeans and a vest helped me get through a long Friday in the office. I fear this may have been the beginning of the end for the Primani's though as a relatively small hole grew alarmingly in size.