It’s day 8 of my clothes ban and all is going well. In fact, last night a clothes parcel arrived, which I had ordered before my ban, so it felt like I still had my weekly clothes treat.
Anyway, I had decided before my ban I would indulge in a bit of designer clothing. I only own two designer items – an Antik Batik dress and Marc Jacobs bag – so I thought it was time to purchase something else.
I chose this gorgeous Manoush blouse. It had beautiful details such as velvet buttons, a velvet trim on the sleeves and the most gorgeous print – a kitten chasing a ball of wool. Plus, it was on sale so I purchased.
Last night, I got that familiar sugar rush when the parcel arrived. My Wardrobe package everything so well – it was wrapped in gorgeous tissue paper and felt VERY indulgent. As I undid the buttons to try the blouse on, my hopes were high. I would own a gorgeous piece of designer clothing. I could see me swanning into work showing those fashion types that I was no Ugly Betty. But alas, it was only ever a pipe dream.
Why? Well it seems designer clothes fit very differently to high street offerings. It was a little big around the chest and waist but the arms were really tight. I managed to squeeze them in but then disaster struck and I couldn’t get out! Thank god hubby was around although he struggled and he’s no weakling. After a good minute of pulling and squeals of pain, I was free – phew.
Needless to say, I didn’t make the purchase and after lovingly stroking the shirt packed it up and sent it back. So that’s the end of my designer fascination. High street clothes may not be original but they’re also not instruments of torture.