I have a very wide face and not very clear-cut features, so it's kind of hard finding a pair of glasses that don't look totally stupid. And since I'm not wearing my own lenses, it's really hard to figure out how the shop glasses look, with my nose one inch away from the mirror. I had way more fun trying specs on Stuart, because then I could actually see how they looked. Here are some of the most fun ones:
And here are the top two pairs from that shop, but I'm still not sure about them. The first ones look pretty classy, but I'm not certain they're really 'me', and the second pair are hard to tell, because they have dark lenses in them, and the other shop assistant couldn't manage to pop out the lenses to see how they look and asked me to come back when the manager was around. Hmm. I wonder what I should get.
Valentine's Day was a day for running into people in central London; we ran into Stuart's work colleague, my publisher, a long-lost Georgian friend, and Derek Jacobi, on his way to act in Twelfth Night.
On the trip into London, I was having fun pretending to be the Sartorialist, because the people who live around here never fail to surprise me with their clothing choices. Except I'm not bold enough to grab the people and take them a short distance to a more photogenic location like he does (which is one of the reasons why I am not a photographer).
I'll label these two pictures Variations on a theme of winter white and ochre. That guy really did have a gold velour patterned track suit, he was storming. When I asked if I could take his photo, he sounded highly amused.
Here are a few more lovely ladies in elegant frocks. (Vogue, take note.)