EMMA JOHNSON
I HAVE NEVER FELT MORE SHOP-TIMISTIC
So, after months of hibernation, of life being put on hold, of everything from cuddles to concerts being absolutely out of the question, if not criminal offences, we now have a roadmap out of our pandemic prison.
If we keep everything crossed and the Government hits all the right health targets, in theory we could be getting our hair done, then celebrating a successful high street shopping trip with a glass of prosecco in the sunshine of a beer garden, in less than two months’ time.
By midsummer we might be getting our hats and high heels on for a day at the races, or heading to a music festival, if not getting on a plane and jetting off somewhere sunny.
Okay, okay, I realise that these are best-case scenarios, but I am ready to buy into them.
I have gone the full Pollyanna and I don’t care. We have our dates with destiny and for the first time in a long time I am feeling optimistic about the future.
Or more accurately, I am feeling ‘shoptimistic’.
Because within minutes of Boris Johnson’s address to the nation on Monday evening, I was messaging my hairdresser asking for a full head of highlights at the earliest possible opportunity, reserving tables at restaurants for May and June (judging by the availability, I was not the only one doing that) and debating whether to take the plunge on a couple of flights to Ibiza in late summer.
Then, before I knew it, I was shopping online for clothes to wear for all these planned days and nights out.
By clothes, I mean proper clothes. Not loungewear, not sweatpants. I am talking about sun dresses, flared jeans, statement skirts, sparkling things, clothes that you hang on the door of your wardrobe and smile at as you imagine all the wonderful adventures and experiences you are going to have together.
I eased myself in at zara.com where I fell for tie-dye Ninetiesstyle slips and printed shirt dresses that were made for wearing to long al-fresco lunches.
From there I turned to stories.com and debated whether I could pull off a lilac boilersuit or the new wide-leg jeans (yes, jeans, remember them?).
Buoyed by a text from my friend announcing she had us booked onto the terrace of one of my favourite cocktail bars in April, I started to think about shoes and made my way to Dune London where my eye fell upon slingbacks in pastel shades and gemcovered high-heeled sandals.
Then, remembering all the postponed weddings from last year that I might now find myself a guest at, my fingers were soon typing harveynichols.com and selfridges.com into the address bar and I was swooning over dresses by Rixo and Reformation.
By the time the credits rolled on the News at Ten, I was hanging out at designer emporium Net-a-Porter and weighing up whether to splash out on a Zimmerman bikini because it was reduced to half price.
If British retail needs help, I told myself – and boy does it – I was ready to step in with my credit card.
Unfortunately just one small thing prevented any of the aforementioned items making it off my online wish lists and into my virtual shopping basket.
I actually already have a wardrobe full of tags-on new clothes that I didn’t get to wear last year that should probably get to see the light of day first.