A post for people who like clothes (also paintings)

'You're the only person I know who goes hiking in velvet trousers,' Liz said on our last walk together.

'They're not velvet, they're needlecord.' (I expect she couldn't tell from two metres away.) 'From Sainsbury's,' I said. 'Men's. And I wear them because they're warm.'

She pointed to her own muddy trousers and said she didn't know how I managed to keep so clean on walks.

'Because I'm a fancy lady,' I said. 'That's what the sibs used to call me when we were young.'

I've bought only four items of clothing since lockdown last March and those needlecords are one of them. Don't you think I've been abstemious when I like clothes so much?

They were a good buy, and so were the hiking boots, and the merino wool and silk long johns, which keep me warm under my dungarees when I'm sitting painting.

This is me a year ago, kitted out for painting:

This was me yesterday. You can do one of those spot the difference thingies on it.

Back view of hair after no haircut for 13 months

The item I bought this last year that I would not buy again is the duvet jacket. (See pic in my last post.) It's the real deal, bought from a hiking shop, but I've discovered it's no warmer than a thick jumper and an anorak, even if according to my daughter it makes me look up-to-date. It was a waste of money, and what's more it makes me look BIG and I'm really not.

The spring/summer catalogues have started to appear in our post box, and they're full of really dull clothes, plus too many too-short trousers (i.e. cropped) that I mentioned the other day. It's great we've got rid of the low waisted look, also that we've got some flares, but now we need trousers that are OK for anyone who doesn't have sylph-like legs.

This linen top is the only thing that tempts me:

I am probably past-it fashion wise, and this makes me sad.  

I mean...I am watching The Bold Type,  a comedy-drama series about three twenty-something career women in New York and I love it, but their shoes are beyond imagining for this 71 year old living out in the sticks.

They wear them for work all day everyday. How do they walk in them? How do they run in them? 

Would I have worn them if I'd been a 20 something career woman instead of a 30 something working mother? (I lived my life back to front)  

Maybe I would...

And now I'm going online to ogle a winter jumper in Donegal wool I've been dithering over for far too long. I might order it, knowing the company does free returns, so then I'll get a frisson when I get a parcel, a frisson when I open it and try it on, and then I can send it back. In lockdown we have to get our kicks where we can.

Lastly, here is my latest painting, just completed. It's our Christmas kitchen.

I painted it from a photo I took in December. It felt like such a challenging painting that I decided to start with a draft, but the draft turned into the final thing. It was very difficult and that made it fun, but I said to Dave this morning that I felt rather disappointed with it.

'Why? It's great.'

'It leaves me feeling a bit meh. It seems staged.'

'What were you trying to say with it?'

'Look! Isn't our kitchen pretty at Christmas!' 

'There you go.'

And he's right. I think it does say that. So he cheered me up. That seems to be his main role at the moment. (That and fixing the leaking bay window roof.)

Now I am going to do an abstract version - focusing on the shapes and the colours. A painting that won't seem staged. Wish me luck.