Chocolate Box

You would not guess it from the image above, but I am not a chocaholic. That is why you can glimpse two additional, half-eaten blocks of chocolate nestling amongst the fabric. They get lost in my pantry. Recently I even found a block of chocolate on a very high bookshelf that I believe I hid from a boyfriend sometime in the last two years. It was a strange colour and didn’t taste very nice.

There is no risk of losing this skirt in my wardrobe, however. I call it my chocolate box skirt.

I clearly remember the moment I saw it. I was looking for something special to wear to a friend’s wedding when I was walking down Chapel St with another friend, and spied it through an op-shop window. “That’s it!” I squealed. “Quick!” I made my friend take her life into her hands and run through the traffic lest someone else snap it up.

It is Indian-made from lovely fabric, like crinkled gold foil. The three tiers of ruffles flounce out and remind me of a flapper’s evening gown. It belonged with a very ugly, quilted vest that I was forced to purchase owing to the manager’s shortsightedness. “But no-one in their right mind would ever wear them together,” I argued in vain. “You’ll get more if you sell them as separates.” No dice. I paid my $25 and immediately donated the sleeveless vest back. It is still there for all I know.

On its first outing I wore the skirt with this – aptly – chocolate-coloured top from Monsoon and turquoise snakeskin pumps. I have also worn it to an eighties-themed party (it is a rah-rah skirt, after all) and an Arabian Nights dinner party. And I have no doubt I will wear it again on the next suitable occasion.

I was quite chuffed when a year or two ago I saw Burberry did a very similar skirt – at ten times the price! Mine is worth its weight in gold.