Something beginning with V For Valentino, the Italian high-end fashion designer. In these cash-strapped times when my budget's being pulled in all directions like the legs off a spider, I felt the need for some new bits and bobs to complement my fairly sparse wardrobe. The other week when I couldn't get my arm in, I had a peck through and culled all the Primani t-shirts, which left me with nothing to go out in. Plenty to clean the car with but that's another story. Worse, we've got a works do coming up and Krystal has challenged us all to get out of our black feathers and into something a bit wilder.
"Why dress down when you can dress up?" She always looks lovely and shared her shopping secrets with the team. Charity shops darling ...
And this is where I found Signor Valentino. I've been playing I Spy in all the best ones - LOROS, British Heart Foundation, Age UK and Sue Ryder - and found a new, New Look skirt for £2.95 but imagine my total smugness at discovering a pure silk, made in Italy, hand-crafted by elves tie for Alphonse for £1.00. I don't know about your neck of the woods but our charity shops have become very fashion savvy these days and are almost outdoing the Vintage Clothing trade. I spent a happy Saturday afternoon in Leicester Cathedral recently with Raven Sandra hunting through piles of clobber, mainly from the 1970's, which I'm sure I wore in my Miss Selfridge days. I had to be dragged away from an original Biba long dress ... Sandra spied the moth holes, I just saw long grass, straw hats and Harmony hairspray.
Anyway, I skipped back to the nest utterly made up by my purchase and left it in an obvious place where Alphonse couldn't miss its shining colours and top-end artistry. I was sure he would snatch it up when he saw the pattern number actually woven into the fabric, then scooted off to the Retail Cathedral - we Ravens like quality don't you know? Several gruelling hours later, I stumbled in the door to be met with a mug of tea and a loaded question hanging in mid-air.
"Who owns that 8loody awful tie?"
"I do ... it's a Valentino." Y'know, I could feel it in my water that this was going nowhere.
"You'd better give it back to him then."
"I actually picked it up for you, hoping you may part with the mouldy polyester Haymarket Theatre tie you adore [bought circa 1989] and replace it with neckwear of quality."
"Was it expensive." Said like "is it plutonium???" I should have been a diplomat.
"In London ... seventy quid maybe. But a small donation to charity secured it for me."
His face said it all, as if something exciting would happen if he dared wear the offending tie just once ... if only. So my beak drooped towards the floor and I vowed never to be so taken in by a moment of sartorial elegance again.
One moment which took me utterly by surprise - spying Grimy on tele in the Closing Ceremony at 23:03 precisely if you're watching on iPlayer. Imagine the impossible odds of seeing a mate who lives just up the road, dressed as an Edwardian gent just before the cannon went off. Amazing. And do you know what? The Valentino tie would have looked just right with his tweed suit. Not the cap though ...
Raven
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