Red Ferrari

My mid-life crisis Jimmy Choos. Accessorize gloves.

Mums and their daughters

Sophie-G in my ball gown.

Sophie-Georgia was invited to a black tie do at the RAC club last night.  I had fun getting her dressed in one of my old frocks by Arianne de K.  She did it way better justice than I did or ever could.  A poignant moment between a mum and her daughter .  It left me wondering about the day I will help her into her wedding dress to whoever is lucky enough to win the heart of this joyful ray of light.

Mr. Ted Baker

Jules and Ted at his Westfield Store

A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.

When the going gets tough…the girl goes shoe shopping.  Here are my cheer-up shoes. My keep-going girl cheer leaders of the shoe world.   For reasons I do not want to divulge I have been feeling really sad today, hugely disappointed.  I have picked myself up, brushed myself down and went out and bought myself a pair of red boots.  Every now and again life doesn’t go as we all wish and a red pair of boots, or whatever your equivalent, is my balm.

The Bottom Line

Trying out dresses for my 50th - Size Sexy

Standing in the bathroom in my bra and knickers I said to Mr. Jules,

“Do you realise this arse of mine has been around 50 years?  50 years!”

This was the moment when it hit home that I was in fact half a century old.  Not when I had one of my three birthday celebrations. Not even when I blew the candles out on my chocolate praline cake at Mosimann’s.  No.  It was that morning standing in my bra and pants looking in wonder at my arse. I have sat on this bottom since 1961.   I have taken it for granted whilst it had dutifully played it’s part.   All the years of driving and sitting and supporting me I had not once said thank you.

And that’s how I feel about turning 50.  How great am I to have reached this age?  How great are – along with my bottom –  these legs of mine, my arms, even that bit of cellulite on my inner thighs which considering how much wine I drink is really a miniscule amount.  My body amazes me.  We are all of us amazing.

Think about it.  The alternative, as I told someone the other day who asked me how it felt to be 50, was that I didn’t reach fifty.  My friend Neil died at 36.  My sister’s boyfriend Andrew died at 17 a cruel, slow death of spinal cancer.

I love each day that I am fifty.