The other day, one of those really sunny ones, I was out searching for my cat, Mo Tenzing. Since Spring has arrived he’s been wandering off a lot. I don’t blame him, the world is an exciting place and there are things to see and do and pounce on and friends to make and dogs to bother. But we miss him as he’s so handsome and friendly and when he’s been gone for a long time we usually take a turn around the neighbourhood to see if he’s got trapped somewhere or is just plain lost.
Anyway there I was, walking down a very sunny crescent in Tufnell Park and a door opened and out came a woman wearing clogs and this magnificent blue cross-back apron. She had done that thing that some people manage to do with their London houses, which is to give it the faint air of a smallholding. In my brief glance across her small front garden and through her house I could see out the back of the French doors a deep, green bower-like garden. I suddenly really, really wanted her apron. I already had the clogs.
I really love mine and like the element of it being an item of clothing in itself, plus the functionality of having full neck-to-knee coverage to make sure absolutely no fat or bolognese splatters reach my New Look white ruffled Isabel Marant knock-off top.