Following another's ability to match the same shade of musky pink.

I admired the colour matching of the skirt and shirt as soon as the woman walked in.

My eyes were immediately drawn to the outfit. It must have taken a good bit of searching to match that particular shade of musky pink, not readily available on the retail racks.

I imagined that every eye would have been on that outfit, every mind tuned to the ability to pair so well. The outfit also fell well, dropping slightly to one side with a swooping hemline that suited the woman’s figure. I am no Trinnie or Susannah, but even the untrained eye can see that some things work and some things don’t.

I mentioned the outfit to my husband, commenting on the colour matching in particular only to discover that he hadn’t noticed the women, let alone the excellent outfit she was wearing. I was momentarily shocked. Such an outfit deserved notice.

Who doesn’t like to people watch, to traipse into the foyer at intermission and notice the flow of the fashion? Who doesn’t love the strut of the models on the catwalk?  The funky fashions inspire me filling my head  with ideas, most of which waft away readily replaced at the next parade.

I am not sure if it’s healthy to swarm my head with ideas, particularly as I rarely get to fulfill them.

I like to sew and most particularly, I like to nut out how shapes and styles come together. Nothing signifies the health of my spirit as much as the whir of the sewing machine, the clunk of the overlocker and the sound of scissors cutting some fine fabric.

The fact that I rarely indulge these days is partly a reflection of my state of busy-ness and partly my lack of body-ness.

There was a time when the measurements on a size 12 pattern were mine exactly. But those days are long gone and even the one-size-fits-all makes a small assumption that this is a body of some proportion and not a beach ball with bulges that is being clothed.  Making clothes is less about making a fashion statement and more about finding sufficient fabric to swathe across the body, and hide the worst bits, all without looking as if you are doing just that.

For now I must content myself with admiring a well matched outfit, even while my husband grips the hand of the beach ball beside him.