Hello there, thanks for joining me!
I’m excited to announce a regular feature of this blog, which I’m hoping will be as regular as five mornings a week, Monday to Friday (I say hoping because I get so easily distrac…oh look! A puppy dog!) Now, where was I? Oh yes – I really want to see this through, commit and evade my propensity for procrastination, one day at a time.
You see, my mum, Tutti, expresses herself through her fashion choices. She is like a living artwork (no Mummy, I’m not saying you have a face like a Picasso) and people are inspired daily by her colour, her flair, her fearless, vibrant style. It’s true that she can hardly walk a few metres down the street, or go into a shop, or have a coffee, without people of all ages – men and women – stopping to comment on how fabulous she is. She’s 63 years old, and if there was ever anyone who could truly epitomise what it means to age youthfully, Tutti has it in the bag.
And yet, it’s not just her ‘look’ that draws people to her: she has a sparkle, an outrageous sense of humour, a knack for crossing the line, a voice that – how shall I put this politely – she knows how to project (she hates being told she’s loud*) – and a face-life-head-on kinda attitude. In a nutshell? She rocks. And now, I’m going to share her style – and the stories behind the outfits – with the world. (Or, at the very least, with my ten blog followers. Hello, over there!)
Sometimes, I’ll post a pic and a caption, other days, I’ll write a bit more. And of course, I’ll continue to unearth stories… (maybe even some old, dusty secrets) from my crazy family vault. Let’s just see how it goes, shall we?
*Reason #1 whyTutti resents being accused of loudness? Picture this: Tutti, talking in her normal voice, at an ordinary decibel level for conversation. Her mother-in-law, my grandmother, now 95 (who my mother, sister and I refer to – rather unflatteringly – as The Goat – an evolution from ‘Nanny’) clutching her ears as though her very life depended on it. WHY was she clutching her ears, you may ask? She was clutching her ears, because my mother was talking. She was clutching her ears as my mother was talking, and shrieking, over the top of my mother’s attempted conversation, as if in agony, “THE NOISE! I CAN’T STAND THE NOISE!”