Another day and the boyf ain't back yet and the tripod has taken its legs for walkies so it's another scramble photo collage.
Somebody commented that there was a definite increase in the amount of black in my outfits. I'm not really one of those people who need to be sheathed in black all the time and I'm certainly not one of those people that think that by dressing in 'chic', 'timeless' and 'classic' black (I don't even think the colour black actually asked for those attributes to be bestowed upon it…), somehow denotes a higher grade in fashion kudos. Oh and currently having spent the night rewatching one of my favourite ATV Canto dramas "I Have a Date with Spring", I'm having a fetish with gross stage costumes in the brightest, yellow, blue, red and whtie (only a select number of people will get that reference…), so black is at this nanosecond quite far from the mind. However, I have come to find that on days where the moo-ness level is on a real high, turning to black for some quick-fix moo-ness shelter is quite handy.
Well, this Jean Pierre Branganza jacket is my moo-ness defence mechanism. Restorative, protective and productive – I'm forced to use infomercial-type trio phrases here. Restores my happy spirits, forgetting that I'm feeling moo and instead conscious of this hulking beaut of a jacket on my back. Protects me from people on the street who might detect my moo-ness as it puts up a shield of slightly distressed, shiny and hard leather and a huge collar of furriness. Produces a feeling of "Yes I can!" (did ya gag a little there?), even if it is just walking up and down the high street wearing this and my creeper boots, feeling like I've accomplished something just by doing the local shop in Morrisons (a harder task than I had imagined given that shopping bags now imbalance me rendering me unable to walk…).