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.

Ra-rgh.

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