Now you have to
understand my colour is blue.
Royal blue to be pedantic.
I’ve had my colours done.
First time I met Cousin Sondra, she came right out with the “what’s your
colour?” number. Cousin Sondra is
American, retired fashion guru, well-dressed, well-travelled, well-spoken,
well-versed in colour analysis and...well, we get on like a house on fire. Fellow eccentric soul, I love her. Not having a clue what she was talking
about and feeling like the country girl on her first trip to the big city, I
rallied with a “it constantly changes” retort. “Not possible” was the answer and, despite my carefully
culled counterpoint of “it’s Boots No.7 Beige when I’m in make-up mode, it’s
Celtic freckles when I’m not, it’s ruddy when I’m outdoors in strong winds, and
broiled lobster when I’m at the gym”, she was having none of it. Sondra sailed off without further ado
but returned next morning with a chart in hand. I was diagnosed as ‘royal blue’. “From now on you wear only clothes with these undertones”
was my charge. I wasn’t sure about
blue but once she added ‘royal’ I was sold. But today I was going shopping and I was intent on red. Yes, red, that’s what I said.
SIMPLY THE BEST MAN U
Red. I am nothing if not well-read. How else would I know about the
psychology of colours? And red’s a
winner every time. Hence I’m a Man
U supporter – oh! and the fact that golfing son
insists I follow There’s enough
research out there to verify this fact so why wear royal blue when you want to
win? No contest. Red it is then and I just hope I don’t
bump into Cousin Sondra on the golf course. I’m probably safe for a while yet: she lives in California
and I in Essex, England. But there
are always those massive family reunions we hold regularly back in
Ireland.......hmmmm...... that includes the Meehan Family Golf Tournament. There could be trouble ahead! But Cousin Sondra was currently the
least of my worries. I had just
drawn up the definitive list of sports shops covering three towns, two counties
and a long weekend. Ready and
primed for the big shop, I set off.
A lady with a mission in red could not fail.
But what a
disappointment that turned out to be.
Go-faster striped gym
gear – check.
You –can’t
keep-up-with-me running apparel – check.
Bend-it-like-Beckham
football kit – check.
Murray mood tennis
clothes – check.
Knock –‘em-dead
boxing garb – check.
It was all there in
glorious Technicolor and when I inquired excitedly of a shop assistant where
the golfing department was, he led me to a dark recess in the underbelly of the
shop and left me there. I groped
around in a tiny enclave of tops and trousers in shades of bereavement black,
muddy brown, pastel pinks - so pale they looked liked they needed resuscitation
(I’m a nurse, don’t argue) - and deathly insipid greys. To crown it all, not a thing remotely
resembling decent ladies wear was visible. And as for red.......
After a weekend of
devoted shopping, I returned home empty-handed, several (sterling) pounds
lighter for having drunk a gallon of coffee at my favourite chic coffee shop
and several (avoirdupois) pounds heavier for having eaten a shed-load of their
pecan yum yums (to die for!). I
was not winning.
That’s when strike
two came from Vintage Golfer who now appeared in the form of fashion guru. A week let loose at The Open, Muirfield,
a wee dram of Bunnahabhain 25 year old and a chat with a sales rep had armed VG
with the site of my dreams. Clothes
for pars and bars. Take it as
read, I was in love. KaBoom! Fireworks trousers, matching cap and red polo
shirt bought in a flash of cash.
Kitted and fitted. (A big
shout-out to VG. I think I will
introduce him to Cousin Sondra.)
MY TROUSERS KA-BOOM!
Now all I needed was
an honest opinion. If you want one
of those, ask middle child, oldest daughter. She’s the sound bite queen, media buff and general geek in
my family. So if you’re feeling
sensitive about a particular issue, don’t go there unless you can handle the
answer. For instance, girls, the
“does my bum look big in this?” question is not one you’d casually trot out in
her presence or, sensitive new man, unless you hold a burning desire to know if
your middle age spread is fast turning into a muffin-top-mound, don’t ask
because she’ll tell you. She
speaks at conferences. Do you
think she can’t handle fetching questions from lone inquirers? I took my entire life in my hands when
I posed for her in my new golfing gear and asked “Whaddya think?” In an instant, she coined the phrase
I’ve come to love, “Mum, that outfit - it’s so bad it’s good.” Stamped with the royal and awesome seal
of daughter approval, I headed off for Lesson One.
Royal and Awesome http://www.royalandawesome.co.uk/
Simply the best http://www.manutd.com/Splash-Page.aspx
Out of this world
http://www.bunnahabhain.com/our-whisky/25-year-old
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