I hate shopping for clothes.
I have been reduced to the point of tears in a shops.
There is nothing that makes you feel quite so bad as clothes shopping when you are a shorter person.
Nothing ever fits. Sleeves are always too long. They taper wrongly, unaccommodating, my wrist falling where the elbow is designed to go in the garment.
I could make a pair of shorts out of the fabric that I have to cut off trousers.
But what about petite ranges I hear you cry.
Most petite ranges will claim that they are for women of 5 foot 3 and under. Which in reality means women who are 5 foot 3 full stop. That's a whole four inches taller then me. It annoys me because the average height for a women in the UK is 5 foot 3 1/2. 5 foot 3 is not petite.
Also those who make petite ranges often think petite equals slim and delicate. I am neither of these things. I would describe my constitution as resembling that of a Shetland pony, small but solidly formed. In delicate petite clothes I can resemble a man in drag.
I'm also not getting any younger. I'll be 30 at the end of this year and I'm a mummy now. I want to be able to dress like a grown up. I don't want to make an exhibition of myself. Clothes in petite ranges are often childlike, all peter-pan collars and sparkles. I do not want to look like a sad old women clinging on to the last vestiges of youth, mutton dressed as lamb. I want to look modest and discreet, not like a drunken Lulu impersonator the morning after.
So am I searching around in vein, trying to find a look that suits me and a shop that fits me.
Wish me luck.
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