New year, new fashion resolutions. Yes, yes, I know I do this every January – don't we all? – but this time, it's serious.
First and foremost: I will buy something that isn't black. Strange but true, even my monochromatic heart was set all aflutter by a Lanvin rose pink silk dress first seen in the showroom immediately following the unveiling of the spring/summer collection. Admittedly, it's muted – faded, perhaps, in a cottage garden way – but I have to start somewhere. If that doesn't work... there's always grey.
In fact, I also wear blue, that's blue jeans, almost every day. I hereby resolve to stop buying them though. True, there is barely a fashion-interested woman on earth who isn't constantly in search of the perfect pair but I now own two pairs of boyfriend jeans, four pairs of blue skinnies, two pairs of grey ones and, er, three pairs of black ones. Clearly, this needs to stop.
Next, a friend who will remain nameless argues that I will never – ever – be taken seriously as a fashion editor until I start wearing heels. This, it should be pointed out, is also a woman who falls over regularly in hers but says it doesn't actually matter just so long as there's someone there to pick her up again. Despite the fact that this isn't the most convincing of arguments I have spent the last six months staggering around the Prada shop floor in the best high-heeled ankle boots only to lose my nerve at the last minute and leave without them. In 2010 I will finally take the plunge. Please help me out if you find me flat on my back in the Bond Street area.
More fashion-y is my tendency to wear summer shoes in the winter. People with an even remotely practical dress sense positively wince when they see me padding around in the frost in pumps (paper flat ones, of course) with no socks and, admittedly, it's no joke: by the end of the day, my feet feel like they might well drop off. So, now, when I'm not in my heels, I will wear Church's brogues or knee-high black leather riding boots until the temperature rises.
I will also wear a skirt, a pencil skirt, an Yves Saint Laurent high-waisted one (pictured) which is more Belle de Jour than is usual for my rather less ladylike taste but that's precisely the reason for committing to it. In a similar vein, I will no longer only carry a bag the size of a small suitcase every day. Having spent years dragging my worldly possessions wherever I go, henceforward my bag will be no bigger than a Chanel 2.55 and anything that doesn't fit in it will simply be left at home. A dislocated shoulder isn't fashionable, after all.