Stories from the changing room
Finding a dress to match my wet whiffy wellies
Once upon a time, long, long ago, on a cold and windy, snow-driven November afternoon, I was forced to leave my toasty-warm little house on a quest to find a dress for ‘a bit of a do’ that I had been invited to in Spain later that month.
Not an easy task in the outback of Chesterfield, I can tell you, so I made my way back to my old stomping ground of Sheffield, a mere 7 miles up the road, in search of a small boutique that I had once frequented. I knew that the high street shops and department stores would be about as much use as a chocolate teapot at that time of year (this WAS hundreds of years ago, remember) and I was banking on finding a small shop where the owner may well have some summer stock left over.
Hurrah, hooray and hallelujah! Sometimes my brilliance amazes even me. The little privately-owned shop turned out to be a real Pandora’s Box and it seemed that three other ladies had had exactly the same idea as me.
We did look a sight, though! All dressed up to the nines in thick winter coats, scarves, gloves, hats and, worse of all, grubby wellies! Now, just tell me - how can you try on a frock with a pair of the Duke’s best? I always advise ladies to try clothes on with the actual shoes, underwear, etc. that you are going to wear with the darned thing that you are buying. Imagining the final look with the right shoes, etc. is an innate skill that we all have but not one that most of us seem able to apply to ourselves. What WE see in the mirror is clearly NOT what the rest of the world sees when they look at us, and this became more and more apparent as the afternoon wore on.
Sale warning!
Our useless turned-inside-out brollies safely stored in a bucket in a corner of the shop, soon we were all busy ferretting through the sales rails in search of the perfect holiday outfit. Now the very word ‘Sale’ should ring a warning bell for us all. We tend to get carried away with the emotion of the word, and end up buying all sorts of monstrosities just because they happened to be reduced in price.
Several years ago, I remember hearing a City image consultant excuse her outfit that day, “It’s a designer jacket, and it was in a sale. I know it’s not the right colour for me, but I just couldn’t resist it!” As she was addressing a roomful of image consultants at the time, she’d just blown her professional integrity apart with at least an Uzi 9 millimetre and I, for one, stopped listening after that goof. Poor dear! But it just goes to show that even image consultants are just as emotional about sales stuff as the rest of us. We’re only human, after all, and none of us can be totally objective about ourselves, especially not about what we THINK we see in the changing room mirror.
We can’t be objective about OURselves
When I first had my colours done about three thousand years ago, I used to visit an image consultant friend for advice every autumn for about 5 years until one day she finally threw me out, “For goodness’ sake, Kim, you MUST know by now what colour winter coat to buy. You can do this for other people so why can’t you work it out for yourself?” But the truth was, that I couldn’t. Or maybe it was more to do with that I didn’t trust my own judgement for myself. I’ve got it now, but it took several attempts to convince myself that a black winter coat is definitely better for me personally than darkest charcoal. So, if you’ve had your colours done and you have a similar problem, don’t beat yourself up. Hopefully, the door is still open for you to contact your consultant again to check things out. And if it isn’t, then get yourself a better consultant!
(Image - Marie Helvin collection at marisota.co.uk)
Back to the changing room
So there we all are, four of us in the changing room - 8 wilting, rather whiffy, wet wellies steaming in the corner - and peeling off about 96 layers from our lily-white bodies before we can even begin trying on. Not the best mood in which to imagine yourself looking tanned and gorgeous in THAT frock somewhere hot, especially when it became abundantly clear that not one of these three lovelies had the slightest idea of which colours to choose for themselves.
The soft-muted Autumn was trying on fuchsia pink and looked utterly ghastly. The light, gentle Summer was encased in ubiquitous black and I was tempted to call for an ambulance, while the warm Spring was repeatedly resisting the bright candy stripes and dots that would have been perfect for her and settling, for some Godforsaken reason, for dull muddy brown. But why? I was so gob-smacked at watching this crazy behaviour that I’d stopped trying things on for myself.
Enough was enough
One of the ladies had been there a wee while longer than the rest of us and was on the point of buying a black Italian silk tube-shaped dress adorned with a mocha edging and tie belt when I felt that enough was enough and I just couldn’t keep my mouth shut any longer. (Nowadays, I will just plough right in but back then I was still trying to be ladylike. My father will agree with me when I tell you that that was a lost cause before it began!).
I know the black of the dress matched her wellies and the mocha accents matched the mud on her wellies, but I just couldn’t let her do it…
She had glorious red hair, huge bright brown eyes and had not stopped talking from the moment I’d walked in. Was a black dress really going to make her feel as vibrant as her obviously sunny personality? I doubt it. But exactly the same dress in custard yellow with a cherry red edging and tie belt clearly did. You should have seen her face light up when she’d got it on. “This is fabulous. It’s absolutely me, and I shall wear it to death.”
“So why on earth didn’t the owner point that one out to her?” I raged inwardly.
Because, Kim, boutique owners, beauticians, hairdressers, etc. are not trained in colour analysis so why should we expect them to know why some things look good and why others clearly don’t? I suppose the owner just wanted to get rid of her sale items and earn some pennies. Maybe she felt that if she mentioned that all-over black wasn’t too fabulous on this vibrant redhead, then she might lose a sale completely as she didn’t know enough about colour to be able to offer an alternative?
Fortunately, image consultants CAN help you with this one. So if you run a beauty or clothes business, why not work with a local image consultant to give your clients a personalised service? If you are a customer, then find out what suits you before you shop, or book a personalised shopping trip with a professional - or you, too, could end up with people asking you, “Do you feel alright, dear? You look a bit peaky. Shall I get you a brandy?”
And what did I buy? Well, that’s entirely another story for another time…
Get yourself a professional image consultant!
Take a look at these colourful tops. These fabulous colours are available all year round, regardless of what the catwalks and lemming high street shops are churning out, and you can order online for delivery to your door.
