how cool was Zara’s wedding?
It was no surprise Princess Anne’s daughter would opt for simplicity.
But we must, just must, rejoice in the fact that so did her guests.
After so many fashion fiascos at The Other Do, pared-down chic ruled supreme.
And way out in front, leading the field, was the shoe of the moment; the elegant, classy, simple court – in nice, natural and never naughty nude.
I am thanking the fashion OverLords for the triumphant return of a shoe that, both in shape and colour, makes perfect sense. And makes the wearer look like a lady rather than a lady-boy.
After too many years of shoe shops overflowing with those vulgar, clod-hopping tart’s shoes, suddenly, the likes of you and me are the height of chic. All three inches of it.
We women of a certain age like our feet to look dainty and feminine. We want elegant shoes - and we want them in a colour that is versatile enough to go with a host of outfits.
We’ve had a hard time of late. We simply couldn’t bare to clomp around in anything ugly, so we made do with silver flip-flops.
We may have been down-at-heel, but our bank accounts and our calf muscles breathed sighs of relief.
Those foolish, fashion-forward girls, though... How come they never realised they were teetering into dominatrix territory in those big, black strappy cage things?
The glittery, gem-studded alternatives were scarcely any better. But at least they’d have come in handy should a lass ever need to earn a fast buck as a Las Vegas lapdancer.
Now the classy nude is winning them over, they must be looking back and seeing the error of their ways?
As shoes pare down to size, I am wondering; is there scope for a few more of fashion’s out-sized excesses to follow suit and shrink to fit?
I’m thinking of handbags the size of a Scandinavian country. So big they could contain your dishwasher, let alone your kitchen sink, these always ridiculously expensive leather hold-everythings (it probably took a whole cow to make just one) act as an optical illusion.
They make the women over whose shoulders they are slung look miniscule in comparison. Which is probably part of their allure. It’s not that these women have loads of important stuff to tote; just that the bigger the bag, the smaller they look.
While I’m ranting about the vulgar vagaries of style, the things that are supposed to make us look a la mode actually make us look idiotic, I really must urge: down with carrot-top trousers for men.
No bloke, no matter how handsome, how fit, will ever look good in them. Clingy on the leg, at mid-thigh they suddenly balloon into a horrendous, low-slung crotch.
Guys waddle along like toddlers, babygrows bursting at the poppers with a heavily laden, first of the morning nappy.