IN A FASHION.

The Author in Her Modelling Days in the Eighties

When you look inside your wardrobe does your heart sink?

Mine does.  I have some nice things: dresses, tops, shirts, pants, jackets for every type of weather, skirts and leggings.  There is, at one and the same time, too much and too little choice.  Men do not understand why members of the opposite sex bleat, "I have nothing to wear", when their wardrobes are filled to capacity.

But we don't have enough to wear.  There is no such thing as the perfect outfit.  My problem is that I am a comfort junky who also insists on being well groomed and colour coordinated.  These are diametrically opposite considerations.   When my mother lived in a nursing home, she wouldn't let her carers dress her in clothes that didn't coordinate.

Mum and I never agreed on each other's tastes, but her standards were ingrained in me at such an early age, it is as if the moment I enter my walk-in robe she is talking in my head.  Just so she feels really at home she holds court in my wardrobe for I have placed her ashes on a shelf therein temporarily until she tells me where she'd like to be scattered.

So far I think she's happy in the wardrobe tut-tutting the condition of my shoes.  Her shoes were always in perfect condition and she never understood why mine actually wore down.  Mind you she had at least fifty pairs in boxes neatly stacked on the floor of her wardrobe.  She also didn't have bunions.

My preference is for clothes that have some give in them.  The new fabrics with Elastane in the weave have been a boon to all women who are not the square, leaner hipped shape of men, but have curves that swerve out wherever their genetic make-up dictates.

Pants are my particular nemesis because I hate anything that cuts into my waist.  My ribs are too close to my hips so that no matter how thin I am, there is never enough space for a wide belt and, also, any bought clothes that have waists are too tight around mine.  A short waist adds at least 3cm to the width that is the norm for your fashion size.

I recently bought a pair of jeans for the first time in three decades because some now come with Elastane in them.  Occasionally I wear them but I find jeans too hot in summer and too cold in winter.  Obviously I'm a rarity as the whole world, male and female, adores jeans.

Two years ago I lost some weight so that my carefully chosen, fitted pants hang on me.  That leaves leggings which I love but I can hear Mum tut-tutting that they are not suitable for work no matter how much men like my butt in them.  Also you can't tuck anything into them.  You have to wear a top that fits over them.  For work I must tuck my shirt in so I found a great pair of pants with Elastane that are pull on but look tailored.

I wore them to death and do you think I can find another pair when I want to?  Of course not.  Well to be truthful, I have been able to find some on occasion, but I sew.  This means I can get the same fabric and make a pattern from the old pants and make them for a quarter of the cost.  They look just as good as the bought pair.  I make them in various colours to match different tops.

The trouble is that unless pants or skirts have a belt or a waist, nothing really looks good tucked into them.  This is where I'm a stickler for detail.  Unfortunately the one thing I can't change is my waist.  Well I could with enough money and if had my lower ribs removed but this seems a bit radical for a woman who isn't Cher.

In the morning or before going out at night, it takes me forever to decide what I should wear.  Here's how my thinking goes, say for a summer dress:

I like that one but it's too hot for today.  It's humid in Brisbane even when it's not too hot.  I discovered early on that polyester is the enemy in this town.  My skin just can't breathe when I wear it.
One dress is too frilly, one too formal and with no stretch.
There's another I only wore once when I went to a party on the wrong night.  The couple invited me in for a drink anyway and I demurred.  A week later the husband hanged himself and I've felt superstitious about wearing the dress ever since.  I really must throw it in the bin but it's a lovely dress.
A couple more dresses are halter or backless and just won't do for what I'm planning that day.
Another is too Hausfrau and another is cool and bright but a bit shapeless.

That's when I reach for my all purpose standby black, stretch, singlet top, short dress, the one that is my second skin.  I live in it on weekends.  I've tried to copy it but bought the wrong material.  The knit was too loose and the outcome was a disaster.  I just don't know what I'm going to do when the little black dress disintegrates.

I like skirts and tops as an alternative to dresses in summer.  I bought a great skirt that fitted and then couldn't find another like it.  Instead of cutting it up to make a pattern I found an old Butterick pattern for a pencil skirt and made a few.  It had a waist band and the pattern piece for this just mocked my waist so I left off the waist band and made it with the top of the skirt having a self-facing instead.  In fact this makes it like the shop bought one.  I've made about six of these now in different colours.  You can never have too many skirts.

I have tried making shirts with some success but haven't quite got the hang of the best fabrics to buy to make them.  I buy shirts now instead and always buy tops.  I have a great selection of stretch tops with fabulous patterns on them.  Lovely as they are I get sick of the same old, same old but I have enough and no excuse to buy any more.

Jackets are items I don't like to wear but must have.  You need jackets for every type of weather and climate.  I have a great selection of these that I collected as I lived in various cities.  None ever seem to serve the purpose when I move to a new place and I have to invest for the new climate.

I have a Parka I never wear here in Brisbane.  I have a wind/rain padded jacket great for early mornings when I drive to work.  It's soft and rolls up easily to put in a big bag I carry in the car.  I have a heavy wool jacket only suitable for a Melbourne winter, a light wool swing jacket, two office type suit jackets, a light linen one and a fake leather one.  All are classics and have outlived fashion trends.

I have a quilted silk evening jacket I bought when I lived in Hong Kong.  It is brightly coloured and I wore it many times.  For some reason I wouldn't be seen dead in it now and I can't put my finger on the reason why.  I also bought a French designer denim jacket with diamantes scattered over the back during the eighties.  It was reduced to a ridiculous price so I snapped it up.  Unfortunately it has bat wing sleeves.  I just can't figure out how to alter it so I just look at it in the wardrobe and sigh.

The Quilted Silk Jacket

I rarely buy anything now.  I just wear things to death and try to buy a replacement if I can't make one.   Clothes I don't wear remain in the wardrobe as a tribute to my past when there was more money and I went out to more functions at night.  I also feel they might come in useful again one day.

In Hong Kong I bought a full length, beaded, black chiffon dress by a well known designer.  The beads are iridescent blue and pewter.  It is a twenties flapper style classic.  I was TINY at the time and now, although slim, I look like a full-length black brick in it.  Anyway there is nowhere to wear it here.

I bought its matching jacket which I'll never part with and is superb.  I couldn't sell the dress on eBay even for a quarter of its price.  It also weighs an absolute ton.

I have collected sweaters over the years and most of them reside in a sealed plastic bag.  I always have this silly thought there may be a disaster one day and we'll need all the clothes we have stored away.  But is it worth it, I ask myself?  If the bag wasn't sealed the moths could get in and I'd have an excuse to throw them away.

What about charity bins you say?  Those things are always filled to the brim and again, no one in Brisbane, unless they are homeless and sleeping in a park in winter, needs the kind of sweaters that take up storage space in my house.

Every five to eight years I possess only two nighties at a time.  When these fall to bits I buy two more that are just right for comfort and temperature for the next five to eight years.  My husband followed by my partner both threatened to throw them away.  I also have one teen bra and seven pairs of flesh coloured and black knickers.  I only started wearing a bra five years ago as I could feel bouncing going on when I drive the taxi ten hours per day.  I wear it as a prevention measure against sagging.

I realise that what lies beneath my clothes is of no importance to me.  Underwear must just be comfortable and invisible through my clothes.  Where I can get away with being lazy and badly groomed, I do, but never on the surface.

What I have noticed is that, as fashion has changed and become shabbier and more casual, women have started to buy underwear that is more structured, lacy and feminine, such as the kind for which Victoria's Secret is famous.  This means I am the opposite of most of my gender.

It must be lovely to be a royal with a person who is your dresser.  This person chooses your outfit for the occasion, knows your likes and dislikes, maintains your clothes, gets rid of them when they are used, saving you the feelings of guilt, washes items before they are put away so that they don't develop brown stains as some clothes do that you think are clean before you put them in your wardrobe.  She would clean out the muck that accumulates on the inside of your shoes and make sure there is rubber on the soles and heels.  She is the fairy god mother of the wardrobe.

Wouldn't it be great if you got up, had breakfast, showered, brushed your teeth, did your make-up and then stood before your wardrobe.  The wardrobe mistress would step out, wave her magic wand and, poof, you would be perfectly outfitted without even having to think about looking in the mirror.  You wouldn't even have to do the contortions required to put on your pantyhose and these would never have a run in them.

She would then allow you to do your hair while she fetched your handbag, cleaned it out of old tissues, receipts and removed hair from your comb.  She would place in it the touch-up makeup and a lipstick to match your outfit that you would need for the day, make sure your charged phone, credit cards, license, clean tissues, money and keys were inside and then hand it to you before you walk nonchalantly out the door that she closes and locks behind you.  She also checks that the stove is off as is the iron, because, after all, you never have to use it.

One can but dream. 

My all time favourite dress