Let me begin by saying that yes, I know, it feels trivial to be talking about fashion when the world is in such a terrible state. So, if you’re not feeling quite up to chit-chatting about clothes, let me point you in the direction of helpful pieces on how to combat loneliness at Christmas and deal with lockdown anger.
For me, fashion is escapism. And in a bid to distract myself from the news, I’ve been diving head-first into online window shopping this week. My findings? The Mango sale is in full swing, and my inner magpie has already spotted something sparkly that I’m sure will lift my Tier 4 spirits.
Tip-toeing that narrow line between ‘real clothes’ and loungewear, Mango's red, gloss-effect knitted co-ord looks at first glance, like the fanciest, most festive pyjamas you’ve ever seen. The trousers even have an elasticated waist - and we all know the benefits they bring when it comes to fitting in an extra mince pie.
Had we have been allowed to go out more in December, I reckon this would have been a sell-out set. But in an attempt to find some light in this lockdown tunnel, I’m pleased to report it’s still available in all sizes. It’s also now just £45.98 for the set, down from £65.98.
Wear yours to walk the dog, to do your big shop - heck, you could even wear it to dance around the kitchen table. All that matters is that you feel good when you wear it.
Dressing up in the face of global crisis is nothing new, nor is it anything to be ashamed of. During WW2, women reached for bold, unflinching reds to lift spirits, something plenty of us replicated with vibrantly painted pouts in the bleakest hours of lockdown.
There’s the so-called ‘lipstick effect’ too. A phrase used to describe shoppers treating themselves to small, mood-boosting purchases (instead of larger ones like appliances and furniture) during times of financial difficulty. It happened during the 2008 recession, and we’re seeing it happen again now.
I’ve been working from home since March, and have found that on the days I’ve laboured over my make-up and selected clothes from my wardrobe (instead of my floordrobe) my mood has improved. I’m no longer shyly shuffling past the judgemental mirror in my hall, and I’m sitting that little bit straighter at my makeshift kitchen table desk.
My parting message? If you can afford it, brush off that pang of buyer's guilt and treat yourself to something lovely to round off an awful year. There’s no denying you deserve it.
