Jeremy Watson: ‘It looks like she means business’

ADMIRED their baby outfits and cute little shoes, many of which are still in boxes in the loft. I’ve treasured their school uniforms, hanging in a cupboard with blazers still stuffed with old bus tickets and sweetie packets.

I like to think Mrs Hoy, Sir Chris’s mum, has done the same, as my daughters and Britain’s greatest Olympian shared an educational institution – although my offspring don’t show any signs of bringing home gold medals as yet.

I loved the ballgowns they wore as debutants on the Edinburgh social scene and which, bought at hideous expense, are now languishing forlornly on hangers. But it’s worth it for the memories of those golden nights when they came of age and which left their parents blubbing like athletes.

Now it’s work outfits that are being modelled in catwalk-style as the young Watsons take tentative steps into the world of employment. Daughter Number Two is home from university and spending her days at a property agency for the summer. Up at unaccustomed hours of the morning, she’s a picture of youthful elegance as she heads to the office – though never early enough to avoid applying her make-up in the car.

For DN1, recent weeks have been a build-up to the First Day At Work. There have been many expeditions to city-centre fashion houses to find that Just Right outfit – or rather outfits – for the budding executive.

There’s the jacket and skirt combo in power black, with shoulders Alexis Carrington would have been proud of. There are other skirts, well-cut white shirts to anchor the ensemble, an array of accessories and some impressive heels. This girl looks like she means business, hair straighted for the first time in six months. “Don’t dress for who you are, but for who you want to be,” she told me, passing on the bons mots of a new company chum.

She’s also the proud owner of a smart overnight bag for trips to the London HQ, where she will be further indoctrinated in company ways. It was first deployed last week on her inaugural ‘red eye’ flight – the red eyes were mine, as chauffeur until her ‘expense account’ is activated. Painful as it was to crawl from bed at 5.15am, at least I can say I was there when she began to scale the peaks of British industry.