I recently went into Brown Thomas to buy some new sunglasses. What? I’m worth it.
I’d started waking up at night worried that people would start judging me* for my awfully off-trend round-eyed (and years old, it has to be said) Tom Fords, and then I remembered that I had €125 in unused BT vouchers so the answer was pretty much written in the stars.
I know. I know. You’re wondering, how on earth did I forget about more than a century in free money to exchange for luxury goods. I was sort of keeping it for something at Cos, but it’s all been shapeless sacks as opposed to nice fitted things. So sunglasses it was.
Wandering around the David Clulow concession, I knew what I wanted. Cat eyes. Oh yes. I’d had a good gander in KaDeWe in Berlin a few weeks previously so thought possibly Miu Miu … until the assistant pounced and tried to steer me towards Cartier. “No!” I screeched. “I am not a Cartier person!” I mean in a way – the way of having a few billion quid – I wish I was, but I am not. I told him what I was after and he bossily insisted I try on some Stella McCartneys.
Well, ok. I was willing to play ball so I did. Yes, they were good. They got my fashion tingle on. But I still wanted to try on some Miu Mius so I drifted that way. On a pair went. “No,” he said firmly. “They are doing nothing for you.” I looked in the mirror. Damn him. He was right.
I bought the Stella McCartneys.
They are lovely. I love them. They were €169 and come in a few different styles and colours (a dusky purple being a standout). There doesn’t seem to be a style name for this particular pair which is slightly irritating but the torty version I picked come in a light and dark option.
My next challenge? To not sit on them and break them into tiny pieces in the next two weeks.
*By the way, this was just an excuse I planted in my brain so I could justify new shades purchase. Don’t talk to me about my head. it’s like Inception in there.