I thought I was going through a phase. Phases are not unusual for me- I am a phasey person- but this one has taken root and has left me rather puzzled.
I’ve got a thing about leopard print.
There’s something in my brain at the moment that wants to incorporate leopard spots into whatever I’m wearing. It started before Christmas when I bought some leopard print tights (very Lauren Laverne, I thought), grew a little when I started wearing my leopard print scarf on my morning cycle commute (keeps out the chill, I thought), but the true impact of it hit me in the Topshop changing rooms one rainy Sunday.
We’d popped in for a mooch around, as you do. I find Topshop a little overwhelming nowadays- it’s all bare bellies, disinterested pouts and ironically tuneless music- but I’d got many, many vouchers for Christmas which needed spending. We’d gravitated towards the sale rail, as most people had. So far, so straightforward. I remember reaching out, and then things got hazy.
The memory sharpens with me standing in the changing cubicle, staring through splayed fingers at my reflection. On my legs were leopard print cigarette trousers. My sister, M, was sympathetically rubbing my back.
“They promised so much, M,” I whispered, “but I think the print is too much for me to handle.”
“You’re certainly making a statement, Cakes,” she said. I turned to look at her.
“I’m not a girl, but I’m not woman enough for these trousers. They’re a marathon, and I’m an occasional jog in the park if it’s not raining. But one day, I will wear enough leopard print in one go to cover an entire half of my body. One day.”
I didn’t buy the trousers. They were on the sale rail, and since I cannot find any trace of them on the internet, I’m not even entirely sure they ever existed. One day, I will own something similar, but until then I am content to just hint at the leopard in my personality.
Thus I bought these shoes:
PS One Dress One Month plans are afoot…