A date with Sarah-Kate; Kate’s home truths
Sarah-Kate leads hubby on a cloak-and-dagger mission
While I am generally happy with my lot, it’s true to say that I’ve been cursed in a few areas – frizzy hair, clown-sized feet and a tendency to gluttony among them. But by far, my worst cross to bear is my pathetic sensitivity to the cold.
I’m approximately 10 degrees colder than anyone else in any room in any part of the world. It drives the Ginger mad. He’ll be in shorts and a T-shirt, and I’ll be swathed in cashmere, begging him to turn the heater up.
“You can’t possibly be freezing,” he will say, for which I will punish him by pressing my icy nose into his closest body part. What kind of a loon pretends to be nearing a hypothermic state, for heaven’s sake? It’s no fun being the only teeth chatterer in the house.
When it comes to layering, I’m an expert and always on the lookout for new ways to improve my skills in this department, which is why I was so thrilled to find a cape shop when we were in Madrid recently. Yes, a shop full of capes.
I read about it when I was researching a travel story and no sooner had we hit the ground in the Spanish capital than I was dragging my beloved through tiny back streets in 40°C heat to find it.
Of course, I didn’t tell him that’s what I was doing. I may have mentioned something about Iberian ham and cold beer, which was what had him so eagerly following me.
But when we came upon my store, an oasis in an otherwise very uninspiring stretch of downtown darkened alley, he got the picture. “Only you,” was all he said before following me sullenly inside.
They came in velvet, in all colours, in all sizes and in all lengths – some with hoods, some with epaulettes and some with hot-pink lining. I was beside myself with joy, especially when the charming sales assistant gave me a lesson in how to apply one’s cape to one’s self.
Hold it up in front of you with its back facing you, then swirl it like Zorro around your head and voila! There it falls, perfectly on your shoulders. And to take it off? Give a decent shrug with one elbow, then swiftly pluck it by the collar with the other hand.
Who doesn’t want an outer layer with such a sophisticated application system attached? And that you can wear over a poncho? Instead of a coat? No? Still not buying it? Well, I did.
“That was one wily little manoeuvre,” said my husband as we exited the store, cape bag in hand. Obviously a lot of Iberian ham and cold beer followed. But now we’re back home in our far cooler climes, his swine goods and lager are no use to him at all. Whereas with one simple dramatic flourish, I’m as warm as toast. All I need now is the hat to match.