You're wearing a skirt," says my friend, who is observant. "Yes, it's National Skirt Wearing Week," I tell her, which is not true, but given that I live in jeans and have had my legs out for a full three days...
It started gently with a tie-waisted, charcoal grey, James Perse stretch jersey design that might best be defined as the tracksuit bottoms of skirts. It's chosen bearing comfort in mind, then. My skirt's mid-calf length, which is fashionable this season. With flat shoes – some things never change – the effect is somewhat WPC-like in the lower leg department at least, however, and it's breezy around the ankles to boot. "You look chic," says my dinner companion, though, and given that, skirt aside, I'm dressed as I always am, I can only assume that it must take the credit for this, not me.
Day two is a full-on fashion Azzedine Alaia skirt day and I'm feeling quite pleased with myself. My skirt is cut like a flower from the front. From behind, there's more body to it, mimicking the effect of a modern-day bustle. Does my bum look big in this? Yes. And I love my skirt, which swooshes around my legs in an entirely feminine way.
Day three and, clearly warming up to the task in hand, I put on an Alexander McQueen pencil skirt (slightly more office-appropriate than the one pictured here), something of a legend in fashion circles for its transformative effect. And (lo!) I can't walk and (also lo!) people are reacting as if I'm walking the streets in nothing but my underwear. Who would have thought that this time-honoured silhouette could live up to its hyper-sexualised reputation quite so effectively?
I have lunch with a colleague who's dressed in Celine – loose-fitting jeans and a striped, granddad shirt, to be precise. "I bet you've never seen me in trousers before," she says. "And you've never seen me in a skirt," I reply. Only then I look down and notice that my legs need waxing.