Sartorially speaking, I have committed some interesting faux pas over the years. There was the time aeons ago when I went to a nightclub in a pair of rather brief shorts and black patent leather stilettos. Now, there are many women who could pull off this look, but being short, pasty and more than a little on the padded side, I’m not one of them. Add to this the fact that I have never mastered the art of walking in heels and, rather than the vision of an alluring vixen I had been aiming for, I looked more like a chubby, plucked chicken.

Then there was the outfit I wore to my Year 12 formal: a yellow, polka dot, drop-waisted dress. This was something most grandmothers would have been proud to have in their wardrobe, but what the hell was it doing on an 18-year-old?

And let’s not forget the Jenny Kee rip-off jumper I wore at uni. I considered myself quite the funkster in that riot of bright colour that did little for my freckles and already rectangular figure.

What the hell?

What the hell?

But all of this pales in comparison to what I’ve been seen schlepping around the house wearing on the days I work from home.

Now, I like clothes, they’re fun, they’re a good way of expressing myself and they cover my shameful nakedness. But when it comes to what I wear when I’m sitting at my home computer, the word that best sums up my fashion style in the recent past is: stretchy. Give me an elasticated waste and an over-sized top any day I always thought.

Now there’s room in everyone’s life for an elasticated waist, in my opinion. Who wants to feel corseted when you’re lounging on the couch watching a movie and eating your body weight in chocolate? But when your life starts to become little more than tracksuits and yoga pants, something has been lost in the sartorial splendor department.



And then of course there are my ugg boots. Ancient and floppy they are now so devoid of wool inside you’d think they were made from a sheep afflicted by alopecia. They also have a hole in the end through which peaks my big toe like a little helmeted hermit peeking out his front door.

All this goes to say that when you work from home standards can slip when it comes to the old personal grooming. I’m not saying that teeth are unbrushed and hair is uncombed (although the latter has been treated as optional on occasion), but the ‘outfits’ I have been donning in recent times veered little from the fleece-lined jersey variety.

So I have decided to break free from my slob clothes and dress anew on the days I work from home. I’ll not only be applying a little more finesse to my at-home work outfits (see the ‘after’ photo) but I’ve decided I’m going to take the opportunity to wear those items I’ve bought in the past but haven’t been brave enough to wear out in public.



There’s the electric blue suede cowboy boots, they’ll get a few outings; the baggy legged skant (pants with a skirt over the top) that’ll get a work out; and then of course there’s the floor length grey wool maxi skirt I bought a few years ago. I know maxi skirts are a thing but this one is less 21st century fashion and more “Hello, 1893 called and it wants its clothing back”.

So I know I may look a little like someone’s mad Aunt Martha in these items but who’s going to see me? (Apart from Gerry but, God love him, he’s used to it.) I may frighten a few deliverymen and the odd Jehovah’s Witness, but I think they’ll survive. At least they won’t be greeted by a tracksuit wearing nightmare sporting a lumpy red cardi and a pair of ugg boots that should have been euthanised years ago.

That’s gotta be an improvement, right?