All my adult life I have worked with computers. Doing various and often not-at-all-similar things, from generating video graphics, video editing, graphic design, multimedia design, plain old typesetting, teaching computer skills and now, weirdly, using accounting and administrative software. And computers amaze me, how wonderful they are, how they have transformed our world. But.
Sometimes I would like to just throw all my computers into the sea and walk away. I would then get a small herd (or is it a flock?) of goats and live a simple but honest life, picking posies of wild herbs and making cheese. I would wear a long patchwork skirt and possibly learn to sing.
This is one of those times, because at the end of the year, I have to update the software on the server with the new tax software. I dread this, because never, not once, has it gone it smoothly. And never so unsmoothly as it did today. I came home at 8.00 because the screen was starting to look fuzzy and the support people at MYOB had gone home. This is the worst feeling because you know the great horrid mess will be waiting for you in the morning, with no one able to do any work until YOU FIX IT. Blergh.
So, onto more important things. Namely, clothes.
I was very interested to observe the famed style of the Parisian women and most gratified to find that it was all true. And even better, it was not just the boring style of elegant women with money to spend, it was more quirky and less conventional than that. And the scarves. They love their scarves, oh the joy for me, as I am a big fan of scarves too and there were scarf shops galore. This is the one I bought:
a printed silk in soft greys and pinks to remind me of the Paris townhouses and the roses.
It was so affirming to see so many women who looked as if they actually gave a damn about their appearance and had the confidence to wear quirky and unusual outfits. When I run through the zombie shopping centres of the suburbs, everyone looks depressingly similar. Any original dressers stand out like the lonely little petunia in the onion patch. Though most of the teenagers in Paris, I noted, looked every bit as scruffy as ours.
And for those of you with teenage daughters, be prepared for Liberty print jumpsuits next summer, I kid you not. They were everywhere on the younguns and looked as cute as a Sarah Kay swap card. And I would know, I still have my collection…
PS: I think I have sent this link to everybody who might look at this post anyway, but if I haven’t, then look here. This made me laugh out loud.