What would you wear to meet Sarah Jessica Parker?
An actual face to face, sitting down in a room, shooting the breeze, “How’s Matthew?” type meeting.
It’s a panic attack waiting to happen. It’s a shortcut to realising you hate your entire wardrobe. And it happened to me.
Let me make it even harder for you. You get a call to say you have the chance to meet Sarah Jessica Parker (actually, all of the four main characters AND Mr.Big but let’s not kid ourselves, it’s all about SJP isn’t it?) This meeting of meetings is in less then 24 hours. Getting the time off work is child’s play compared to the Accessorising Angst* that lies ahead.
Now, lest we forget, SJP is not Carrie Bradshaw so those of you heading down the tutu and swimming costume route, shame on you. SJP is Queen Fashionista. SJP laughs in the face of nose jobs and mole removal. Even if she turns out to be way too skinny and to look like a horse in the flesh, respect is due. SJP is untouchable. SJP gets away with snow wash denim and socks with sandals in New York for God’s sake. This is not a woman who needs a Debenham’s personal shopping gift voucher for Christmas.
So I’m thinking keep it simple and then add something terribly English which might be a conversation starter encouraging SJP to talk about how much she loves London and how clever and individual we all are. Perhaps a McQ dress with a bonkers pair of shoes bought in the sale at Office (you know, the ones that are less than half price because yes, they are a work of art, but you can’t actually walk in them). It’s summer so we can do bare legs and a clashing cashmere cardi in case it rains.
So far so good.
Just one more thing… you’re six months pregnant.
Ohh yes, six months pregnant with boobs like a couple of inflatable devices in a Christmas stocking. Everyone has said not to worry, that the three cup sizes you’ve grown in just the first trimester will even out as the rest of you grows, that your back size will increase too meaning a maternity bra that fits might actually exist.
However that doesn’t happen and your chest remains bigger than your rather neat bump. Money can’t buy fetal protection like your own in-built double airbag. You spend the entire pregnancy as a normal person from the back and a genetically modified, three humped camel from the front.
Less than 24 hours now remember, so what do you do?
Me, I planned the whole look in my head, one I was very pleased with indeed. My outfit admittedly involved at least one item of non-maternity clothing, but one that would make SJP think twice about hiring a surrogate to have her twins – yes, it was that good.
Of course in reality the non-maternity dress was little more than a cropped top once wrapped around my bumps – the outfit was on the floor within minutes. Less than one hour to go…
I won’t bore you with the hysterical scene that then happened in my bedroom. I’ll simply say that I did meet Sarah Jessica Parker and she was indeed very skinny (but then doesn’t everyone when your womb is playing host to a small human being?) She didn’t look like a horse (but I never thought she did anyway) and she was absolutely lovely in calf-length emerald green. She didn’t coo over my outfit but then I was dressed in head to toe slightly bobbly Primark elastane, so it’s hardly surprising. To my ongoing dismay, I wasn’t even wearing heels – despite spending most of my pregnancy in the things – because I was running late and opted for ballet pumps to ‘sprint’ to the tube station in.
I couldn’t just sit there and let SJP assume I thought my footwear was acceptable though so I mentioned my mortification. Much like you might apologise to Andy Murray for wearing an England shirt to his house.
SJP was very gracious about my Primark flats but rather annoyingly asked why I hadn’t put my heels in my ‘purse’ to change into when I arrived.
But then that’s why she’s SJP and I’m EJS**. Welcome to my blog.
*Accessorising Angst – a whole other subject. See future blogs…
**Believe it or not, EJS is a Personal Shopper and Stylist.