Day 3 of my Edinburgh Fashion Week, which is a creation all my own. After some panicked arithmetic last night, I can conclude that I did visit enough charity shops in order to make it to Friday this week. I’m sorry the report that there will be no closing ceremony or fanfare when I reach the end. I might, however, let off a celebratory party popper and have a glass of wine to conclude this enthralling series of posts, if that comforts you at all.
For those of you who have joined me half way through this series, for shame sir, for shame! I highly recommend that you read everything I have posted since last Friday. This will give you a much better picture as to what the hell I am confabulating about. Alternatively, if you already me largely irritating, feel free to bugger off.
To summarise: my trip to Edinburgh last only one day, but during this time, I was able to visit a variety of charity shops in the Morningside area. This week, I am writing about each of those shops individually. Today it is the turn of Cancer Research UK, just to eliminate any confusion for the mavericks out there who have neglected to read the title.
This is a good quality, dark brown jacket courtesy of Hobbs. I own a similar one to this in a pale blue colour, and yet I still found this a very tempting prospect. My jacket collection seems to have multiplied at a rate which only the African nations can match. I am considering investing in some sort of blazer contraception. Perhaps if I were to enforce the wearing of all my jackets at once, I might remember the sheer volume of those I already possess. A ridiculous image ensues whereby I am unable to place my arms at my side, or push a trolley without bending over double.
You’ll be pleased to know that this jacket was outwith my size range, therefore I avoided the urge to purchase it. As a result, I have successfully circumnavigated any self-imposed blazer contraception. Any images you may have in your head that involved me typing with only one arm, unable to successfully reach the keyboard with two of them due to the sheer bulk of material, can be banished.
Some years ago I realised that poloneck jumpers, such as this, accentuated my double chin. A double chin that has plagued me since birth I might add. I am forever thankful to the one, ill-fated profile photograph that highlighted this issue to me, and since then I had sworn off them The way a vertigo victim swears off narrow bridges. In spite of this, my recent weight loss has meant that I felt compelled to dabble in this style of jumper once again. Not wanting to commit too heavily, a charity shop was the only way to go. I am not sure what has encouraged this sudden change of heart, possibly a brush with a Rolex advert showing some beautiful model looking demure with an angular jaw line. I’ll keep you updated on my progress with the roll neck.
This gorgeous Radley satchel is not too dissimilar to the Gucci one I recently came across in the Aberdeen Shelter Scotland shop, you can read more on that here. This looks very smart, although it is no where near big enough for the detritus that I like to haul around behind me. I may never know why having 3 lipsticks, a selection of cotton wool buds and a pair of gloves makes me feel more secure, but it does. Even in July! Perhaps it’s just in case I need to murder anyone. If CSI has taught me anything, it’s that a pair of leather gloves are essential at all times.