transretrogurl

I had a stressy week last week but the upside is I suddenly was available to go into London for an adhoc session to cheer myself up; as per normal the world/fate tried to kick me repeatedly in the dangly bits (which are already a tad tender for so many years of squeezing them and hiding them). For a start, and I’m looking at you London, who thinks closing a major road into a city centre for a weekend is a good idea? London, obviously, as I found the A40 West Way closed when I started to head home, leading to a terrifying 17 mile diversion through central and northern London (Hanger Lane roundabout is an exercise in screaming, especially if you miss the A40 turn off and have to go around again).

However, I had a *wonderful* session; it’s my birthday later this week (53, hellfire) and that, in combination with a couple of unpleasant physical issues and on-going (self-inflicted) mental/hormone issues was making me feel like I was scraping the bottom of the barrel of my psyche. I needed a break; I’m feeling old, worn out and, as I said before, courtesy of that lunatic in the Kremlin threatened in a way I haven’t since growing up during the tail end of the cold war. This session was like taking a bath in rose-scented oils. We did some lovely looks but, unusually, we started with a dealer’s choice.

Well, not quite true; I did a little shoot just wearing the under garments and nothing on my top (I was interested in the state of the chest region) which was a:cold and b: cold. But then I couldn’t pick which outfit to go for first, and prompted by Cinders who said she had scored some delightful new and expensive frocks I said ‘what the hey, you pick one’.

And boy, did she pick one. It was a Ted Baker dress and I’m going to admit my complete ignorance as I’d never heard of him; to me Ted Baker sounds like he should be selling golf clubs, but I need to take that back as the dress was beyond gorgeous.

And, drum roll, it was a size 12. And, even deeper drum roll, it fit like a delightful floral glove.

There were so many things I adored about that dress; the cut which was short but sexy, the style with the crenelated sleeves and hem, the adorable transparent collar (the bit at the neck is actually translucent). Turns out it’s an expensive number too, which adds to the level of squee-ness.

Now, if I can blow my own trumpet (and I’ve never been that supple; yeah, my mind went there) I looked a little, well, cute. We did some great poses as well including a ‘girl at a party hiding out in the wine cellar’.

I was going to do a big post with all eleven or so looks but they were so much fun I think I’m going to drip feed them out as frock tales; as I mentioned it’s my birthday later this week and without sounding like a drama queen I am getting older. I’ve been unbelievably lucky with things like my skin; 53 years of not giving a crap about it and yet it’s still pretty good, but the wrinkles are starting to show. I’m not hung-up on it in an obsessed I MUST GET PLASTIC SURGERY way but it’s definitely starting to steer my choice of dresses.

But this one (and a couple of others in the session) bucked that trend. I shouldn’t be able to get away with it; it’s obviously aimed at, well, a younger generation of woman but once I’d got it on and zipped up (which was remarkably easy given it was a 12. And yeah, I’m proud of that) it just felt, well, right.

And that’s a good enough birthday present in and of itself.

So, short one that; more to come with those session looks but I’ll stick a teaser in after my last comment.

Stay beautiful and remember to enjoy the moments; don’t focus on the past or the future, they are someone else’s problem.