As I mooched down the high street on a drizzly Saturday morning my self esteem was sub rock bottom, (technically my mental state was located somewhere beneath the continental crust).

I was dressed like the kind of person I have never wanted to be. I wasn’t even out of “fashion”, I had slipped into the utterly lazy and incredibly unimaginative, “comfy zone”.

My coat could be best described as a “sports anorak”. I had purchased it for outdoor pursuits such as fishing and other extreme sports which I now have absolutely no intention of ever trying. I have yet to succumb to membership of the ramblers association, but if I do, I shall beat myself to death with a walking boot, which of course I was also wearing that Saturday morning.

This kind of dress sense is for geeks, perverts and people with no style. (Maybe there is something in this self–analysis – Ed). So I gave my fashion sense a good kicking. There were no mountains nearby, no rough terrain, and no need for Gore-Tex, spandex or Ant’n'Decs. Or any other dex that my clothing might be made of.

Back in the day I was on the cutting edge of cool. Honestly. But something has changed, and it’s time for an image overhaul. Watch out Haute Couture, Fat Jim is coming to get ya, Trinny & Susanna, bring it on. Gok Kwan, well, you can stay away, because you are never going to make me look good naked.

No tags