Keep shining

Right, last outfit posting for the week. Here's a selection of my recent summer-at-work outfits, featuring a handful of seasonal trends: the maxi, a dash of double denim, floral flippy skirt and shorts (apologies for dodgy mobile uploads. Not the best quality but I quite like the homey, grainy, spontaneous quality of them sometimes. Plus, I feel like it's becoming a bit of a trademark, my Mirror Me shots!).

Clockwise from top left: silk maxi dress, Topshop Boutique; turquoise ring, Miss Selfridge; belt, Primark. Denim jacket, Select; tunic, Matalan; jeans, Dorothy Perkins; wedges, Matalan; ring, as before; pendant, Primark. Black vest, Topshop; floral satin skirt, H&M; gladiators, New Look; long necklace, Banana Republic; chain link necklace, vintage. Waistcoat, Topman; white vest, M&S; shorts, Zara; gladiators, as before; sunglasses, Primark; chain necklace, vintage

All dressed up

On Saturday night we celebrated 100 years of Emanuel Rugby Club (formerly Old Emanuel) with a fabulous centenary dinner dance underneath a marquee in the club grounds, complete with sparkling chandeliers and buckets of champagne. As this is a style blog, I won't start waffling on about rugby or anything else sport-related, but I shall just explain that the reason I was there was because my husband plays for the club and we've made many lifelong friends through belonging to it. And the club's social events are always great.

But the main reason for this post is that, with it being a black-tie event, I couldn't let it pass without taking a few snaps of myself and the girls in all our finery. I think you'll agree, we did ourselves proud. And when it comes to a man in a tux... Well, it never fails.

My red halterneck dress, vintage, Beyond Retro; bronze platform sandals, Pura Lopez; metallic clutch, Primark. Catherine's pink vintage-style dress with white hearts, belt and corsage, all Vivien of Holloway; black patent shoes, New Look

My day in Manolos

And so it was that, a couple of Sundays ago, I was to attend the remembrance service in London's Hyde Park in honour of fallen troops. With my dad having served in the army for just under 30 years, it's not the first time I've attended one of these events but, this time, Dad had been chosen to carry his regiment's banner during the march. Mum, hubby and myself all assembled to proudly watch Dad in his moment of glory, and obviously we'd all dressed up for the occasion (particularly as HRH the Prince of Wales was there - couldn't let Charlie down, I know he's a steadfast follower of all things fash-wan).

While considering my footwear choices, it struck me that I hadn't worn my silver snakeskin Manolo Blahniks since my wedding day (nearly a year ago). Now, this wouldn't be your obvious choice for such a day, as we would be walking through Hyde Park, standing still for a good hour, then walking on to a spot for some lunch after the service, so warmth and walkability would be key. But if I could spend the biggest day of my life in those Blahniks - and let me tell you I was up till 4am dancing - then surely a few hours in the park would be doable? And if you're going to spend upwards of £350 on a beautifully crafted pair of shoes, a) it's a waste of money not to wear them, and b) surely all that money would mean they would be made so well that wearing them would be a dream, no? (And c, did I mention that I was to be in the presence of royalty? Not that it was about me, obvz).

So, how did they fare? Well, pretty bloody good actually. While my feet weren't the warmest - the predictable British weather giving us a particularly cold day in May - and my right pinkie did in fact go numb temporarily while we went through the hymns, the four-inch heels didn't feel high at all. My feet weren't uncomfortable while standing, and they were extremely easy to walk in. Not once did I teeter on the spindly stilettos. And I have to say, I gathered more than a couple of admiring glances shoe-ward, which always gives a girl a boost.

Mini-mission complete, the Blahniks were a huge success, and I felt all the more confident and stylish because of them during my chat with Charlie over lunch (yes, we even got to meet him. He's lovely). It just goes to show that quality craftsmanship really does pay off, and now I'm not so baffled by all those uber-groomed Manhattanites who manage to trot around the city all day in their very own sky-high strappies. Mr Blahnik, I salute you. Your shoes are not just beautiful, but ultimately very wearable. And Dad, we were very proud. xx

From top: Manolo himself; the iconic Cherry shoe, designed for Ossie Clark; a close-up of my Blahniks; wearing said Blahniks at the remembrance service with my parents. Blazer, Zara; dress, vintage; tights, Wolford; cashmere pashmina, a gift; mink elbow-length gloves, Primark

A fine vintage

The closest I've ever really got to owning 'vintage clothing' is when I've come away from the charity shop with something. And that hardly counts as vintage, as it's probably only a couple of years old and was no doubt owned by someone just like me who lives two streets away and wore it doing something just as ordinary as going to work (yes, Zara blazer, I'm referring to you. Love you though I do). And while I do own a couple of fabulous gold and white belts from the 70s and 80s (thanks Mum), and these do actually count as being vintage items, there's something about trawling through the magical items in a real vintage store that gets your heart truly fluttering.

And so it is that I ended up in the marvellous Beyond Retro on London's Great Marlborough Street today. A veritable treasure trove of vintage goodies, it's like entering a glittering cave of nostalgia. If you haven't been (there's another one in the East End and also in Brighton www.beyondretro.com), make sure you give yourself a couple of hours, as you'll want to try everything on. In fact, you'll need to, as there's no real size guide when it comes to vintage. And there are hats, sunglasses, boots, bags, belts... and all for bargain prices, considering the quality of the stitching, beading and embellishment involved.

Just thinking about the life that was led by the person who once owned the floor-length, lipstick-red gown peppered with glittering glass beads on the far rail between the prom dresses is enough to get me going. Were they perhaps a singer in a smokey nightclub in Montmartre? Or maybe a glamorous socialite who had similar dresses for every night of the week ready to throw on when yet another yacht party invitation came through the door? I get like this with secondhand books, too. There's more of a mystery to them, a back story. As if opening a doorstop of a novel isn't exciting enough, with its promise of a nailbiting page-turner of a story, replete with beguiling protagonists and intoxicating sentence structure. But when it's been owned by one, two, who-knows-how-many people before you, then the image of someone else curling up in a 

cosy nook with a cuppa and enjoying each twist and turn of the plot the way that you will too, is enough to throw me into an escapist daydream of a world.

Vintage shopping is more than just secondhand - it could be fiftyhand! Or it could indeed be secondhand. The point is, you just never know, so you can create all sorts of images in your head of the life of the person who last wore the item you're holding. Which just makes it all the more exciting, if you ask me. And what else makes it exciting? The fact that, should you buy this mysterious garment full of potential history and fantastical stories, you'll be owning a One-Off, ie, that elusive item that only crops up in a handful of occasions:

a) When you've bought couture

b) When something has been tailor-made for you, or you've run it up yourself (should you have a knack with the sewing machine, lucky thing)

c) When you've made an item unique by customising it.

While I am as much a high-street queen as the next girl, the idea of turning up to an event wearing something identical to the person applying her lippie next to me in the bathroom mirror is a scary one. Particularly when you're a stylist and these things are Not Meant To Happen To You. So buying vintage gets me away from that potential horror story, and is a Godsend if I have a big do coming up.

From everyday pieces, knits, jeans and tailoring to some fabulous over-the-top frou frou frocks, sparkly belts, dress-up-box hats and lite-your-nan-used-to-own handbags, Beyond Retro essentially gives you the thrill of walking into a fancy dress shop.Which is why you need to have a care not to let your inner magpie get too overexcited. 
A friend of mine, who shall remain nameless, once entered Beyond Retro one day with a hangover, 
and left the proud owner of a belly dancing costume. 
You know who you are.

     The belly dancing hangover outfit!