Wednesday, 30 April 2014

Temperature Rising

Two questions I'm frequently asked are "Aren't you hot in that?" and "Brr, aren't you chilly in that?"

The answers are invariably 'YES' and 'NO' respectively.

I wear a massive black coat to walk to wherever I've got to go, and because I never think to check weather forecasts. I walk along a fairly busy road to get to work, which is usually peppered with White Van Men who would take my unbuttoning of said coat to be the start of a strip tease. I'm pleased to say these guys are usually out-of-towners and not representative of Brightonian menfolk.

If I really have to take my coat off, I look for a quiet road to nip down and do that, or hide behind a parked van blocking bored commuters' view of me. I then hold the coat protectively in front of me. I know, it's fucking ridiculous right? I should just think "Sod it" and do what I want to be comfortable. But I've learnt it's just easier this way.

When I reach my desination I pad about in a sleeveless dress or vest top for half the morning trying to cool down again, so I inevitably elicit the second question above.

Years ago women used to say to me, "Wow you're brave wearing that" or whatever, and I didn't really get what they meant. It's a slightly above-the-knee skirt; I'm not going off to fight in Afghanistan. But now I get it.

I have this theory that women don't get more modest as they grow older; they just get tired of all the shit flung their way if they're wearing shorts or spaghetti strap tops or anything that shows a bit of flesh because the sun's come out and we're trying to cool the fuck down.


Okay for you to swan about with yer top off ya bastard sun god, innit!