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.

You give me fever (or not)

One might think this a perfect outfit for Spring Racing Carnival: pink, flimsy, frivolous.

But it's a babydoll, a sartorial staple of wannabe little girls the world over.

It should not come as a surprise, then, that I stand resolutely against its pernicious infiltration into grown women's wardrobes. 

And yet – I found myself buying one! Why?

I told myself it would be very suitable as a holiday party dress (overseas, where no-one I know will see me). In fact, it bears a striking resemblance to one of those purchases made in error, under holiday-induced temporary insanity. I console myself that it was secondhand; cheap; and can therefore toss it in the bin without a qualm when I come to my senses. 

So, odds are strongly against you seeing me gamboling about town in this getup, Cup Fever notwithstanding.

Out of black, into the pink

Melbourne, it’s spring! It’s time to shed those dark layers and wear something pretty and light. It doesn’t have to be girly, or frivolous and frilly. It doesn’t have to be this colourful, and you don’t have to be that brave! But for goodness sake, let’s put an end to this tiresome rumour that Melburnians wear black all the time!

If wearing top-to-toe colour seems a trifle frightening to you, why don’t you try swapping the black for dark grey, or even – gasp! – light grey? In fact, I think this lovely neutral looks even better teamed with colours than does black, which seems a very eighties combination to me.

I know! I have a wonderful idea… why don’t we start a fashion revolution and give Sydney a run for its money?

(And if a pink sash is not enough for you, try a pink coat on for size…)