An open letter to Loretta.


Dear Loretta,

Thank you for your comment last week regarding a post I wrote about being sprung wearing gym gear to the shops.

From your words, I can only take away the fact that you find that particular look ugly ugly ugly. But Loretta, you aint seen ugly until you see my own deirerre encased in a pair of Lorna Jane Pants of Power. It is like two black seals fighting in a glad bag. You could almost put bets on which cheek is going to win. So you may have covered off the ugly point in my case.

But I will not have your internet finger pointed at me in accusation of bringing the fashion industry to its knees. I am quite a good shopper, albeit depending on my mood. I should not grocery shop when I am hungry, a lesson we all know too well.

But if, like you suggest, I am responsible for designers and retailers going out of business, in my defence I can only argue that while I might be taking with one hand, you can bet all your designer duds that I am giving with the other.

Let me explain.

I am a passionate supporter of the pork industry.

I am a faithful supporter of the wine industry. I place an order at Dan Murphy’s which then uses a high amount of resources to make sure my Villa Maria arrives at my door. ¬†Currently prices at $10.99 bought in any six, that order involves involvement from the tech department, the accounting department, the warehouse department and finally, the logistics department.

I am interested in the soft furnishing industry, particularly throw rugs at the moment as we head into spring, so we might not need the full on heating on, but a slight nip in the air might require an extra layer.

I am an avid advocate of the coffee industry, with that addictive, tantalising aroma welcome anyway. And yes, I will pay extra for a premium experience.

And of course, I am in love with the kind folks at Apple, whose products continue to make my life easier. Although it is fair to say that it forgot to remind me that it was the school walk-a-thon today. Lucky, I am wearing my pants of power! Today is the day they will give me the strength I need… to succeed.

So dearest Loretta, in conclusion… ¬†you may give me your t-shirt , your pearls, your silken undies yearning to breathe free, and take pity on a unfashionable mum, just getting though the day the best she knows how.

Which, thank fuck for all, is dressed. No matter how badly.

All the best

Mrs Woog.