Janet Christie: Mum’s the word
Thankfully Cinderella is at a friend’s so I’m flying solo, woohoo. I’m after a new black cardigan but usually whenever I’m lured by the glimmer of buttons across a shop floor I’m huckled away by Youngest Child who shrieks: “No more black! No more cardigans! You’ve got black and you’ve got cardigans! (I haven’t actually – she left my last black cardigan in the park).
Shoes bagged I head into Zara, looking for a cardigan Youngest and I saw last time round but I wasn’t allowed (black). “No more black. You need colour in your life,” she’d barked. “Look,” she’d pointed at what turned out to be the manager. “He’s old, and he’s wearing pink. Lovely.”
“Old” but not deaf.
Advertisement
Hide AdAdvertisement
Hide Ad“I usually wear only black,” he’d said. “Like your mother. When you’re ...” he paused, plumped for “mature” and continued, “you like a neutral palette. I’m only wearing this because it’s sale time, when I break my rule.”
Today he’s in head-to-toe black. Sophisticated. I spy the black cardigan Youngest hated on sight.
I buy it. Back to black. She’s not the boss of me.