If we are to believe the media, Christmas is a time for vast quantities of food, happily consumed by a family full of beaming children and apple cheeked grandmas, in the twinkle of a thousand fairy lights. If this is your experience… then good on you. It is not mine. I have pared my Christmas traditions down to quietness, cheese and meeting Madame StyleStuff for the first mince pie of the season.
In contrast to our last meet-up, this one was on the coldest day of the winter so far and promised to mess with my carefully straightened hair so thoroughly as to make an angel, be it harkened or heralded, swear like… a curly haired woman who has straightened her hair and has several freezing cold stations to stand on before Harvey Nicks hoves into view.
We met in Leeds. Obviously. Draw a line from StyleStuff HQ to chez moi & there is Leeds.
First stop Zara. Looking for sequins this year? Zara’s your gal. Shorts, longs, maxi or mini, jacket or dress. They have it all. And then some.
A single purchase was made. Not sequinned but animal print. No sooner had I said “this is nice” than it was flown to the changing rooms. There was some twisting & even some shouting – I was busy boomeranging my Instagram a pleated skirt when I should have been waiting at the changing rooms to inspect the twisting – and it’s beaut. Simple. Neat. Pretty cuffs. It’s a blouse by the way.
To be honest, Harvey Nicks was a bit meh. Even the decorations seemed phoned in. But maybe we just weren’t up for the big purchases. I won’t do a M&S tirade on them.
Then it was time for lunch. And the big reveal. Steady yourselves.
Yep. I was wearing sequins. Unbeknown to Madame StyleStuff, I’d planned it ahead of time. Surprisingly, our fellow diners didn’t dash over and want selfies with me and my jacket. Or me and my hair. Maybe if they knew my normal life is based under a stone with occasional dashes out to Aldi, they would have.
Prosecco was partaken of and pictures posted on Instagram. Mine of course. Someone replied with several hearts and the cow emoji. With less prosecco, I might have wondered about that. But I’d had exactly the right amount to think “Yes, I am a lucky cow. I managed to keep my hair dry.”
We managed to have our mince pie at Pret. This has become another tradition, for me. I love coffee. All of my lottery winning dreams include me coming out onto a deck, somewhere not here, with a great cup of java in my hand. But you know what? Sometimes you want coffee. Not a dental enamel challenge. And Pret does a decent filter in a proper cup (Could I get any more middle aged. Stop me if I start on about the bin men) with a delightful mince pie.
With much love for the mince pie and prosecco season x