. No, what we have in common is that we both know what it's like to feel underdressed. Her, when she tottered into one of Rodeo Drive's most prestigious outlets in six-inch heels and a Spandex situation. Me, because I have a figure built for function not fashion. This makes glamming up challenging. As a result, I gave up shopping decades before it became fashionable to do so. My wardrobe is described by friends – affectionately, but with regret – as 'sackcloth and ashes'. I feel that by wearing a smile, I can make my clothes – old, second-hand or both – make do, and in the comfort of my local environment, that works just fine. The trouble arises, of course, when I find myself in unfamiliar climes: black-tie events; cocktail parties; weddings – all of which I habitually swerve – and then that most unfamiliar environment of them all: the holiday. If we're talking beach hair and kaftans, no problem. But as soon as we venture into dressing up for dinner, or the sort of place where holiday equates to fashion parade, I'm in trouble. I've yet to take a cruise, because the formal evenings would leave me, frankly, all at sea. So when I was given the opportunity to travel to one of the most glamorous places on Earth – St Barts – I hesitated. The tiny, once Swedish but now French Caribbean island of Saint-Barthélemy is best known for its headline-grabbing superstar visitors (among them Leonardo DiCaprio, Beyoncé and Elton John), the superyacht-owning oligarchs who go there to party, and its designer stores, which leave their Bond Street, Champs Elysées and Park Avenue counterparts standing, not only for their range of merchandise, but also because they're tax-free. But then I wondered, might there be a pl){kind=link}
Time to see if you can still have a ball in the glamorous French Caribbean island while donning your best thrifty threads
I never thought I’d have anything in common with Vivian in Pretty Woman, and yet I have. It’s not the dream of being rescued by a knight in a white limousine, nor the length of our legs (since the whole of me is roughly two thirds as long as Viv’s hip-to-toe measurement).
No, what we have in common is that we both know what it’s like to feel underdressed. Her, when she tottered into one of Rodeo Drive’s most prestigious outlets in six-inch heels and a Spandex situation. Me, because I have a figure built for function not fashion. This makes glamming up challenging.
As a result, I gave up shopping decades before it became fashionable to do so.
My wardrobe is described by friends – affectionately, but with regret – as “sackcloth and ashes”. I feel that by wearing a smile, I can make my clothes – old, second-hand or both – make do, and in the comfort of my local environment, that works just fine.