A fox passes Princess Tatiana’s path. A fox passes Princess Tatiana’s path.

So I was walking to work one morning when I looked down at my feet and saw this long piece of string winding round my ankles. “Dang! What the dickens is that?” I exclaimed aloud.

Further investigation revealed my hem was coming down. It had unravelled nearly all the way round, and I could only hope I could get through the day without anyone noticing. Rapidly, I came to the conclusion I would simply have to dazzle them with my wit since my top was not low-cut enough.

As if this was not sufficient, a couple of days later I was walking down Chapel Street with Gutter-Boy, and wondered aloud why the lining of my skirt was hanging below the hem? That afternoon I realised I had put the skirt on backwards in my hurry to dress that morning. I had assumed the split went at the back, but nooo. I couldn’t believe I’d experienced hem troubles not once, but twice in one week!

However neither sartorial misdemeanour compares to the morning I felt one of my stay-up stockings give up its day job and slowly inch its way down my leg.

This process worked itself out over an agonising fifteen-minute period while a bared grin became fixed on my face. Fortunately I was wearing a heavy, floor-length wool skirt, so the stocking was not visible to all and sundry as it pooled around my ankle. As I walk along heavily trafficked roads, (besides being vulgar to start with), it was impossible to hitch it up every two seconds without alerting the general public to my embarrassing dilemma.

The moral of the story? The humble skirt’s power can be used for good – or evil.

Just be careful not to get on the wrong side of it.