Opinion: Janet Christie - Lockdown wasn’t ALL bad - some things we should maybe hang on to
Masks for instance. Am I the only one who likes shopping in a mask? You can discuss the items on your list with yourself in the supermarket without anyone noticing, and no-one’s likely to say “cheer up doll, it might never happen’” if you have your bitched resting face on. If they do, a quick smize-wise crinkling of the eyes gets rid of them without the effort required to extend the movement to the lower face, and by the way, it did happen, mate. Big time.
Not having indoor visitors isn’t bad either. Clothes drying on the radiators and a messy kitchen, the hall still not painted and profanities daubed on the walls by a child (now technically adult and nothing wrong with the spelling despite the dyslexia diagnosis) left alone with a tester pot? Not a problem. Nothing in the fridge for visitors? They’ll have had their tea - and soda bread.
Nowadays any callers are either delivering for Youngest Child (another playsuit? Really? In Scotland?) or pals collecting me for a walk, and outdoor refreshment should we get lucky and get served. With every pub table now booked until September by organised types, nipping out for a quick drink is a thirsty business. A pub crawl without the drinks is just another walk. But how sweet it tastes when you finally strike gold and manage to get served somewhere with enough space to squeeze you in beside the bins.
Clothing is more relaxed too. When was the last time you wore your ‘hard trousers’, or anything without a little give? Better to stick with the all-day pyjamas and call them athleisure/workwear.
Another plus is healthy hair. No longer doused with chemicals and blasted with hairdryers and straighteners on a daily basis, it’s healthier and shinier, with curls and natural colours flourishing in the face of conformity.
Sadly none of this will last. The signs are already there. Youngest has taken to giving me style tips for re-entering society, such as “you could brush your hair”, and only yesterday we saw a woman in lovely Louboutins trip-trapping along Princes Street. A flash of red soles and then she was lost among the trainers and grey cottons, but she was there. We saw her. A harbinger in heels.
