Any woman that is serious about fashion usually has at least one item, be it shoes, handbags, the perfect pair of black trousers or blue jeans, that she collects incessantly. It’s an addiction that is itching to be fed on a daily, sometimes hourly, basis.
It can be deadlier than alcoholism as at least a bottle of booze is relatively cheap. In comparison to a £1900 Chanel number, that is. There is nothing cheap about an addiction to clothes and it can put you in the gutter faster than a bottle of Krug on a balmy London summer’s eve.
My fashion drug of choice is the dress. I don’t subscribe to one style. Give me empire, sheath, bias cut (well maybe a little less so here as I don’t find them as flattering), maxi, wrap, sun, evening or jumper- I’ll take them all. And in fact I have taken them all and it has cost me dearly. If I see a dress I adore I am incapable of leaving the shop without it, to hell with the cost or the consequences. I instantly picture the premiere, gallery opening, garden party or picnic that I will attend in said dress and am swept away into a zen like state of mind.
Some women are choosey about brands, seasons and trends. None of these things have truly had an effect on my purchasing. I will shop anywhere, anytime from any period in fashion. You can find me at Selfridges browsing the dresses in price ranges equal to most young ladies’ monthly salaries and then directly after I will be fighting with the other bargain hunters at Primark to get the last floral sundress in my size.
The end result is this- I have an entire front room that I have transformed into every girl’s dream walk-in closet to house my collection. I have never dared count how many dresses I actually own as I fear I may faint if I were to go through with such an exercise. I imagine it equates to a nice down payment on a two bedroom flat in Chelsea. If forced to guess I would say 150 wouldn’t be too far off base. Please don’t judge! It’s an addiction, remember.