I have just tried on my three winter coats. The size 16 one, 25 years old, I'm hoping to be able to wear in spring. I can now put it on but I can't do it up. Still, it's progress.
The knee-length black one, the best that Marks and Sparks (no relation) could sell, fits beatifully, better than when I bought it because I am a tad smaller than when I bought it. It needs a thorough brushing, having been popular with one or both cats at some point that I didn't notice.
The lime green one. Also from Markses.
Ah, my lime green coat. I love it with a passion. It was an extravagance. A frivolity. I saw it and was in love. They didn't have my size. I hunted through five branches, no joy (this will be familiar to the many of us who take large sizes). No joy. I lurked for weeks. Still no joy. Then long after I had given up, I walked past a rail in M&S by chance, and there it was. Limegreencoatmysizegrabitnowbe
One of THOSE moments. I wear it with my favourite scarf. Designer scarf. Fragonard. Look, we can't get into designer clothes, we have to get our girlish egoboosts somewhere, yes?
I tried it on. It fits perfectly, better than it ever has. It is a size smaller than the black one, and I can now wear it with a jumper under it if I want to.
On the lapel, a ladybird brooch. Also on the lapel, a dusty little bald patch.
Argh. Moth! I knew there was an issue, I've had antimoth sticky cards up for months. But OF COURSE they have to choose the most visible part of my favourite coat.
What do you mean, it's still wearable? And in six months' time I'll be too thin for it? Beside the point.
I'm off into town to buy Things To Kill Clothes Moths With.
Death To The Moths Death To The Moths Death To The Moths Death To The Moths Death To The Moths Death To The Moths Death To The Moths Death To The Moths . . .