{"id":10012,"date":"2024-02-19T10:36:14","date_gmt":"2024-02-19T10:36:14","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/damesnet.com\/?p=10012"},"modified":"2024-02-19T10:36:18","modified_gmt":"2024-02-19T10:36:18","slug":"am-i-soignee-yet","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/damesnet.com\/?p=10012","title":{"rendered":"Am I Soign\u00e9e Yet?"},"content":{"rendered":"
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One of the few things on my very short (but very long-lived) bucket list has been to look soign\u00e9e \u2013 no doubt because of too much exposure to Vogue<\/em> at an early age. I can\u2019t believe I still haven\u2019t achieved it, but hope springs eternal \u2013 and I have a wedding coming up.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

At one stage, decades ago, I was getting quite close to it. With my tweed \u2013 no, make that \u2018tweed look\u2019 \u2013 mini coat and my pull-up wet-look knee boots (!), I felt I was within striking distance. And then the whole project was derailed by hippiedom. Turning my back on the sleek, groomed look, I headed full tilt in the opposite direction: more scarves, more beads, bigger hair, floppier hats, droopier skirts\u2026 Bliss was it in that dawn to be alive!<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But instead of subsiding into something more restrained as I began my working life, I went to Australia. Brisbane, to be precise. Up in the subtropical regions. We know by now how hard it is to be immaculately turned out when it\u2019s 30\u2070 in the shade. This was my cheesecloth and batik period \u2013 all of which had to be topped off with a chunky cardigan during a day in an over-air-conditioned office. Even the blokes in their tailored safari shorts suits were more soign\u00e9 than me!<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Returning to cooler climes could have been an opportunity to pull myself together, so to speak, except that it was swiftly followed by motherhood, and a uniform of trousers with bagged-out knees and tops with a recurring motif of posset on the shoulders.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I must also acknowledge the contribution of moths to the sabotage of my attempts at elegance. The holes they have inflicted on my clothes seem to have the unique property of being invisible until I\u2019m safely out of the front door. I recall a very chic senior civil servant talking to me at a work do a few years ago, apparently transfixed by the black watch tartan scarf I had draped round my neck with casual \u00e9lan. On inspecting it later, I discovered it was pocked with large holes, some easily one centimetre across.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A large part of what I believe is now called a \u2018put-together\u2019 look is a flawless complexion \u2013 or as the mega influential Korean beauty industry has it, a glass complexion. My social media feeds are regularly gate-crashed by blandishments for a foundation called \u2018Il Makiage\u2019, and I must admit to being more interested in these than in the ones for penile enlargement. The demonstration of how this product can be used to give even a lemon a smooth ivory complexion are undeniably impressive, but I did my due diligence: the ether is full of complaints about how this stuff goes orange, flakes off, etc. No prospect of an alabaster finish there.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Nevertheless, all is looking good for the wedding. I may well be wearing all new clothes for once, so what could possibly go wrong? But what\u2019s the betting that I\u2019ll catch sight of myself in a mirror at some stage and realise that the handlebar moustache has landed back on my forehead \u2013 and, as any fule kno, you cannot be soign\u00e9e with a handlebar moustache<\/a>* draped above your face.<\/p>\n\n\n\n